Butterfly Girl
by Wavywavy
Summary: "So, I'm aware that a pebble that falls inside a pond causes ripples. I really, really didn't mean to cannonball into the God-forsaken thing." Alternatively: Eliza falls inside a cartoon and proves to be trouble. "Please, please. Just let me mind my own business." Despite her insistence, neither side listens. (Oc x ?)
1. Chapter 1

Butterfly Girl

**Summary: **So, I'm aware that a pebble that falls inside a pond causes a ripple. I really, really didn't mean to cannonball into the dammed thing.

**A/N: **Gosh, do I hope this fandom isn't completely dead yet, ha! Some days ago, I started to feel a bit nostalgic, and boy, can you bet I binge-watched this show. So, I wanted to try a new (quote, unquote) concept: A woman falls into the Xiaolin Showdown story and everything is as ridiculous and cartoonish as ever. She has to navigate the story, forced to deal with a lightheartedness that's not really common in our reality, while also trying not to throw the whole natural order of this world to hell. It's going to be, mostly, a wholesome fanfiction with some serious moments.

* * *

Chapter 1: I, raise

I've always found dreams to be peculiar things. It's funny how someone's brain manages to make up the most outlandish, bizarre, and disturbing scenarios inside their head, and still make them believe―at least most of the time― that there's nothing out of the ordinary.

Then there's lucid dreaming; a particular kind of fun, which I personally haven't had the luck to experience that much since reaching my twenties. I guessed this was normal. Not much time to be a dreamer when you're too worried about paying your bills and graduating college, even though I did cherish every dream I could remember having after waking up from it.

And boy, did I hope I'd remember this one.

It wasn't my alarm that woke me up. Instead, it happened the way it used to when I was a kid and I'd pass out in the garden: The sun gently rousing me from deep sleep, a blade of grass just barely tickling the tip of my nose.

This, of course, became the very first thing I noticed to be wrong. Moving out of my parents' house a little over two years ago, I now lived in a cheap, small apartment complex, with tenants whose only appreciation for plants began and ended in cacti. The second ―and I perceived this with a grimace― was a dull pang in my shoulder. It hadn't been anything to be surprised of; I had been laying on the cold, hard ground, after all.

Easy to say, I had not found myself particularly happy with the situation.

I'm, in fact, the kind of woman that sleeps with her own army of pillows: Fluffy, soft pillows, filled to the brim with faux feathers for extra comfort. Said pillows, that, as I realized, were then nowhere to be found. The beforementioned circumstance had begged the following question:

"_Where the hell is my bed?"_

It then suddenly clicked that I still hadn't risen, so I sat with the abruptness of a heart attack. My pajamas were sleeveless, and my skin prone to grass rash. A second question originated from this concern:

"_Why the hell am I in a meadow?"_

Now, if this had been where my problems ended, I wouldn't have been as freaked out by this dream as I currently was. Waking up in the middle of a clearing? Absolutely vanilla compared to all the weird shit I've dreamt about throughout my life.

Still, as I finished digesting the scene unfolding a few meters away from my prone body, I had a final question that needed to be answered:

"_What the hell did I smoke before going to bed?"_

"Rejoice, my brothers and sisters, for the Ancient ones have listened to our prayers!"

The public didn't need to be told twice, as they proceeded to burst out in cheers: A conglomeration of people, ―men, women, and children alike― with faces that were obscured by hooded clothing.

You know the feeling of walking in on the tail end of someone telling a joke, that is apparently so funny it has everyone slapping their knees; yet no one there is willing to repeat the joke or explain what's so humorous about it?

This is how I currently felt. Except these were no annoying coworkers. Oh, no sir, they definitely weren't.

"_So, cultist?" _Came the thought, but I didn't want to assume. Even if the robes, torches, hoods, plus the pentagram I currently sat on, were, in fact, pretty strong indicators of this being the case.

They stood in a crescent formation around their leader―Or who, at least, I guessed to be their leader―, a man of unidentifiable age and a booming, yet raspy voice. He had his back turned to me and gestured wildly as he spoke. I simply kept looking at my surroundings, periodically pinching my arm, and growing a bit confused when I realized that my dream hadn't bothered to correct my glasses-less, blurry, piss-poor joke of a vision. God, out of all things that had to be kept realistic―

"… A new order! No one will be able to stand in our way!" Came the last lines of what had most likely been a lengthy, motivational speech, which had prompted yet another round of howls and applause. Goodness gracious did this guy like the sound of his own voice.

Rubbing my now tired eyes, I sighed loudly and began standing up.

"_Alrighty, alright. What kind of party am I missing here?"_

Seeing my movements, the crowd fell into a deafening silence.

The lack of reaction elicited their leader's attention, too, who turned around to stare with a fearful, yet awestruck expression. Just in that moment came the acknowledgment of the multiple pair of eyes that seemed to burn through my clothes.

Well, lucky I had worn my good pajamas to bed, right?

I cleared my throat, thinking of what to say now that everyone had shut up.

I glanced around a final time.

Alright, so there were cultists. Cultists that, from what I assumed, appeared to have just finished a ritual in the middle of an abandoned clearing. And then, there was me, who should've, by all intents and purposes, been sleeping in my bed after eating the equivalent of half my weight in takeout.

And while this was probably still the case for real-me, dream-me currently sat― very much appropriately dressed, mind you―, in a now half-destroyed pentagram made from several spices. One which, by the way, I figured out to be pepper.

I sniffled and held back a sneeze. A cooing rose from somewhere in the back of the multitude.

Yikes.

"_Okay, so if I'm reading the room correctly. And I think I'm―"_ A shiver ran down my spine at the adoring gaze of dozens of strangers. _"I think I've been summoned, and now am some kind of deity."_

Which was fine. Hella weird dream. Whatever. I didn't know I still had that kind of self-love buried deep inside my subconsciousness, but cool beans.

A new kind of pressure made me sweat.

"_Should I be, like, benevolent? Mysterious?" _I swallowed. _"What the hell do you guys want from me!?" _

In the end, I decided that I might as well get them used to disappointment.

"Um." Came my words of wisdom. Their heads jerked up, and I beckoned the leader to come closer with a hand gesture.

"My liege!" The leader exclaimed and stepped closer. I cringed at the volume but allowed a polite, yet definitely, strained smile to settle on my lips. No need to be rude to these people. They were clearly trying their best. "What is that you desire? From now on, we live to serve you. So, please, I implore you, do use me as you see fit!"

My mouth twitched.

"Yeah, that― no." The last word broke without my permission. "Just… ugh. Just explain, please."

"Pardon?" He cocked his head, as if he were the one who had the right to be confused in this situation.

I licked my lips, then massaged the bridge of my nose, thinking of a way to simplify the next question.

"What am I doing here? What exactly do you want to ask from me?"

"_There. That's that. Now it wasn't that complicated, was it, Liz?"_

It had, actually, been easier than I had previously anticipated, as the man appeared to be more than happy than to update me on the situation.

And that, my dear friends, was when everything went to hell.

* * *

Few elements exist in this universe that are actual constants: There's the speed of light and the gravitational constant, for instance. The parameters of the Higgs field potential. A phase in the QCD vacuum.

(The last two of which I really knew nothing about, but boy, did Physics students love to rant about them.)

Then, there was Chris. Everyone with any kind of social life had, at the very minimum, one Chris in their group: The bastard that was known by many but loved by none. That one person whose sudden presence in a room would be followed by tensing and scoffing and murmurs of "Ugh, it's Chris. Who the hell invited Chris?"

So, when a new person stepped into the clearing, eliciting this same reaction, I just chalked it up to him being a Chris.

Dude had no hood and wore a toga. Totally ruined the atmosphere, right?

In the next five minutes or so, I came to realize that I had been wrong in several points.

Fist, that had been no toga.

Second, the sudden guest was no Chris, but actual trouble; from the cultists' perspective, at least.

"Ah, what do we have here?" The man walked with long and confident steps. And while my lack of glasses didn't allow for proper scrutinization, some of his features stood out enough to be noticed even with my shortsightedness; such as the fact that he was bald, and built like brickhouse, too.

Was that supposed to be the foil? The good guy?

"_Gosh, are my dreams becoming elaborate."_

"Stand back, Master Monk." The cult leader snarled at the man. For the first time, I noticed a growling undertone in his voice. "This matter does not concern you."

I wanted to point out that this whole matter technically didn't concern me either. But the crackling strain in the air was beginning to rub me in the wrong way, which probably meant this wasn't the time nor place to offer clarification.

It turned out that my original theory had been correct. Mostly. It had not been a normal deity that the cultists were attempting to summon, as Yurk―the cult leader―, had so graciously informed me, but some sort of Demon Lord that would bring a thousand years of darkness upon the Earth.

Why, you ask?

Because world domination, of course!

And while this was far from being the end of the conversation, at this point, I found myself far too focused on the facts that―

A: These douchenozzles somehow had confused me, and still were confusing me, with some sort of Eldritch god.

and,

B: I was the one who hadn't only imagined these douchenozzles to life, I had also been the one who was responsible for their dumb and uncreative, train-wreck of a plan.

World domination? Really? Could you get any more cartoonish than that?

As Yurk finished his villainous monologue, in which he, of course, divulged his entire plan to his enemy, the monk seemed to be thinking along the same lines. We both made eye contact, and I shook my head strongly from side to side.

I'm not sure what he understood. I had only wanted to express my bewilderment. Yet, for some reason, it was this particular action that preceded the entire mayhem which took place.

It had been the monk who sprang into action first.

_"Motherfu_―"

I gasped as he drop-kicked a kid in the face, then, said kid stood up and removed his hood: Revealing not a child, but a goblin underneath.

The others removed their respective robes to expose their identities: They were all similar creatures, of different heights and coloration, who wasted no time to launch themselves towards the monk. They surrounded him like a pack of wolves, and as punches started to be thrown, I began thinking that maybe ―just maybe― it was time to scram for good.

I threw a last glance over my shoulder and frowned at the scene. While the goblins were indeed surrounding him and had a clear advantage in numbers, they fought him one on one (occasionally in pairs) and would only give it a shot once the previous contender had met defeat.

My mouth hung open, then closed.

"_Are you kidding me!? Just gang up on him, guys!"_

"Freaking henchmen," I whispered harshly under my breath as I began to run away from the chaos.

"My liege! Please, wait!" Yurk stood on my way, wrinkly, grey hands grabbing the edges of my camisole in desperation. I felt the fabric beginning to slide down at the front and quickly tugged it back up in panic.

"Dude! Hands off!"

"Please, Dark Lady!" His sniveling face made me cringe. "Just this once, I implore you to help us! Help your loyal servants, my liege!"

"You literally have the wrong person!" I screamed, temper completely thrown out of an eight-story window and buried six feet underground.

The goblin cried harder. I wanted to drop dead then and there.

"_Dear Solomon, when is this dream going to be over!?"_

Then, from the distance, someone shouted:

"Dodge, girl!"

"Huh?" Paralyzed on the spot, I turned to the origin of the voice, and felt my heart drop to my stomach as I saw, what I thought to be a goblin, flying rapidly in my direction.

"Dodge!" The monk repeated.

I didn't have enough time to dodge. I did have the opportunity, however, to feel completely and utterly pissed off.

An impact: Darkness, and nothing more.

* * *

"_When will I stop waking up in strange places?" _I thought groggily as my eyes adapted to the twilight lit room. The white of the walls and rice paper door reflected the light outside, basking the entirety of my surroundings in burnt gold. Birds chirped in the distance, announcing the end of the day, and I felt warm and generally pleasant despite my throbbing head.

A face appeared in my field of vision. From his clothes and figure, I recognized him as the monk from the field, whose facial features were now clear due to its closeness. He held a mortar in his left hand, and pestle in his right.

Asian? Came the vague thought from the back of my brain. It seemed to be the case.

"_And good-looking as well."_

The monk smiled kindly.

"Thank you. I am very flattered."

Ah, so I had said that out loud?

I closed and opened my eyes repeatedly, trying to blink away the remaining traces of somnolence, snorting in frustration when this wasn't the case.

Why did this man look somewhat familiar?

"Have I seen you somewhere?" My words slurred and died prematurely.

"_Wow. It's almost like a real concussion."_

He shook his head.

"I don't think we have ever met before. But perhaps you've heard of me through descriptions? I'm fairly well known."

It then hit me.

"You look like Guan." I smiled dumbly. I had re-watched the show recently with my neighbor's kid. Good cartoon, nostalgic as well, although a bit too lighthearted for me at times.

"Master Monk Guan." He corrected gently. "And yes, that is who I am."

My lips twitched in amusement, and I decided to go along with the joke.

"Well, I guess I could have a worse host, then."

"I do my best." He nodded solemnly, yet his eyes reflected nothing but mirth. "Would you like something to eat now that you're awake, then?"

I looked out of the window. Outside, as if painted on the sky, was one of the most beautiful sunsets I had ever seen. I tried to imprint it in my muddled mind; maybe I could sketch it once the dream came to an end.

"If it's okay, I'd rather sleep a bit more."

"That's alright. Rest as much as you need to. You can have breakfast in the morning."

My eyelids closed, yet the sunset remained in front of me.

"_Watercolors? Yeah, I think so. It has been a while. Ah, but I still have that Calculus project to finish__―__"_

Eventually, the thoughts blended into each other, beginning to disappear, and I hoped, before fading, that'd remember this dream when I woke up. It had been strange, but also interesting.

Samuel would love it.

* * *

It had been morning for hours, but Master Monk Guan reminded himself that people outside the temple didn't usually wake up to the first rays of sunlight.

With a tray in his hands, he walked out of the kitchen and across the garden. It was better to wake her up now so she could eat. It had been, most likely, several hours since her last meal. Goblins weren't particularly known for their hospitability.

Apparently, this also applied to their supposed goddess.

It had been a normal, summerly day. Master Monk Guan sat below a waterfall when the sky, as if swallowed by an ocean of ink, darkened a few kilometers to the west.

For the first time in many years, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight.

He had instinctively reached to his back, where the handle of the spear would have normally been, before realizing his mistake.

As he hurried to his objective, the skies cleared once more, the black clouds disappearing with any feelings of impending doom. This had made him quicken his pace.

_The calm before the storm. _

He had eventually reached a clearing, not finding what he had expected; far from it, as a matter of fact.

In the middle of a circle of hooded figures stood a young woman. Her long, and somewhat mussed hair, fell in dark waves all the way to her midriff. By her facial features and olive-toned skin, he could tell she was not from the surrounding area ―Mediterranean, maybe? ―, but all of this wasn't really what caught his attention.

_"Is she not afraid?"_

For a young woman in her situation, she showed a surprising lack of fear. She barely regarded the scene taking place before her eyes; the same way someone who watched a mediocre movie did: Curious, a bit surprised, but not completely present.

Not that he would criticize her for it.

The chief of the horde got into the same, old rant that he had heard multiple times, over and over again, in his 1500 years of roaming the Earth to fight the forces of evil. Despite his initial indifference, a particular part of the monologue stuck to him.

"_A demon?" _He had looked at the girl; unsure, but cautious. Yet, as their eyes met, he could sense no malice from them.

The girl shook her head. For the first time, her dark irises reflected a feeling that differed from her initial curiosity.

Consternation.

"_Or was it puzzlement?"_

No. It had definitely been consternation.

It was then he had decided to rescue her.

"_Although I had not meant to hurt her in the process." _He sighed awkwardly, still guilty for what had occurred.

At least, she still thought him to be good-looking.

Silver lining? He thought.

Still, one question remained to be answered: What did those goblins want from her? A demon, they had said. There was something peculiar about that woman; This, he could not deny, but she didn't feel like someone who belonged to the Heylin side, least of all a demon.

"_Maybe they had planned for her to be a vessel?" _He reflected, and a wave of disgust made his temperate expression twist the slightest of bits.

Whatever the case, everything was over now. He'd help her as much as needed to make up for the damages he had caused, and after this, he'd personally see her home.

"_She's probably awake and hungry."_ He had made some egg soup and rice pudding, so it could settle well with her stomach. A glass of warm tea and pain medicine had been pushed to the corner of the tray.

Monk Guan reached the end of the hallway and stood before the sliding door.

"Miss? Are you awake?" He called to his guest but was met with silence. As he balanced the tray of food in one hand, about to enter the room as quietly as he could, a soft sob reached his ears.

His hand froze.

Slowly, monk Guan settled the tray on the floor, made sure it was out of the way before opening the door.

His eyes widened at the sight before him and he rushed inside.

Knees close to her chest, the woman sat on the mat, face buried deeply into her arms as rhythmic, and heartbreaking whimpers broke through her self-made barrier.

Sitting by her side, the monk gave the woman a tentative and gentle tap on the arm.

Abruptly, the sobbing stopped.

Ever so slightly, the girl lifted her head. Her eyes were red and rimmed with tears. The emotions in her eyes were many and passed to quickly for him to recognize. Then, her lips parted.

"Who are you." She asked, voice hoarse. The monk frowned in confusion. Hadn't she recognized him just last night?

"I'm Master Monk Guan." He answered anyway, thinking that this might serve to calm her.

A beat of silence, then―

It started as a snort. Soon, however, the light rumbles that originated from the back of her throat grew louder in volume, turning, much to his growing concern, into broken, rambunctious giggles.

The monk stared at her in worry.

"What happened to you?"

The woman pressed a hand to her mouth, attempting to silence the remnants of her laughter. She rubbed her eyes, which were now swelled and crinkled in unamused amusement, and sighed deeply as to regain her breath.

"I think―" She snorted again, unable to help herself. "― that I've been made the punchline of a bad joke."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure myself." She whispered, and her eyes slid to the window. "But you really are Master Monk Guan, aren't you?"

He didn't answer nor move. It didn't look like she cared.

"I'm really sorry about that." She wiped the remaining of her tears with her left hand and extended her right. He noticed a tattoo on her wrist. "My name's Eliza."

"Eliza?" He confirmed, voice soft. The woman, no longer anonymous, nodded.

"Eliza, but Liz is fine."


	2. Chapter 2

Butterfly Girl

**A/N: **Thanks for those who favorited and followed the story. And thanks to the guest for being my first review. I'm glad you liked the beginning.

Here's chapter one. Should I make the chapters around this length, or would you prefer shorter ones?

* * *

Chapter 2: I, cope

Some people liked to say that school doesn't really prepare you for adulthood, and in a way, they were right. The life skills that truly mattered once you were out there by yourself had little to do with the mitochondria's role as the powerhouse of the cell. Doing taxes? Signing leases? Managing your finances and social life? Those had to be self-taught. And even if it could be argued that people came to expect these tasks in the future once reaching a certain age, they certainly didn't know how stress-inducing such responsibilities truly were until they had to actually deal with them.

But at the very least, they were expected.

Growing up, I'd never anticipated that falling off of my reality and living in a cartoon would be a problem I'd be expected to deal with, but alas.

Oh, I had read fanfictions and lightnovels, ―webtoons and whatnot― which worked with this kind of plotline, but for this to happen to me―?

Well, scratch that. A week had passed since my awakening in this world, and even now, I still had my doubts on the verity of this experience.

"This is super messed up," I whispered to myself once my breath came back to me, about half a minute later after falling from a peach tree.

"Are you alright?" Some monk asked from the distance, and I raised a thumb to him.

I had just fallen fifteen feet and landed on my back after slipping off a wooden ladder. Somehow, I hadn't broken my neck, which was a miracle in and of itself. However, the fact that I encountered myself in no relevant, physical pain (besides the initial sting) was nothing short of ridiculous.

"_Is this what T.V Tropes call 'Made of Iron'?"*_

It had been this which I first noticed upon waking up the third time in this world. First; a lack of crippling pain from my supposed concussion. Then, from the punches I had proceeded to inflict upon my arms to wake up. Ultimately, these efforts were useless: A realization that had not only led me to a panic attack but resulted in the beginnings of aleatory breakdowns that would have monks running to my aid for the following three days.

"_It's like feeling from behind a sheet of glass."_

And this really made me doubt whether I was still dreaming or not.

That aside, I had an alternative hypothesis of what actually went on.

"Crude." I attempted for the day, only to frown at my tongue's disobedience. There were many words, some less family-friendly than others, that passed through my lips in moments of frustration. 'Crude' had never been one of them.

Groaning, I staggered up to my feet, deadpanning as I noticed dozens of peaches strewn across the grass, a basket laying many meters away from where I had fallen.

Harvest the peaches, they said. It will be easy, they said.

I rubbed my eyes and groaned again.

"_Fuck."_

"Crude."

* * *

Reality, non-reality. I think it had been Plato (or maybe Aristotle?) who had first postulated something called the ´Dream Argument´: The idea that illusion and reality are actually indistinguishable to our senses, and therefore, it could be possible to live inside a dream without ever getting to experience the state of being awake: The reality beyond the dream.

(Of course, as an eleven-year-old girl that didn't have many worries back then, having been told this for the first time had served as a nice introduction to my first existential crisis.)

Having said that, Plato could go and get bent for all I cared. This would never be my reality; I'd never accept it as such. And whoever was responsible for my situation, ―whether it was Christy Hui or God themselves―, had absolutely no say in this decision of mine.

Not that I could think of this world as an illusion either, because, as the word implied, illusions were supposed to illude people.

This world could never illude anyone for shit.

Because honest to Solomon, _a cartoon?_ Not even an edgy, live-action version of the original series with normal physics, but the actual cartoon?

The inability to get seriously hurt and having to deal with an ever-present profanity filter, although highly strange, weren't enough to convince me that I had, indeed, effectively been trapped inside a literal cartoon. No, the nail that sealed the coffin came with an explosion.

An exploding head, to be precise.

Two days into my second week had passed and I moped the floor.

"Why can't you be more careful, Lu!?"

I cringed at the volume but continued my task. Lu, one of the new apprentices, had been dusting in the room next to mine when a loud crash resounded through the temple, resulting in the rushing of feet of an older, and less temperate, monk.

"No! Not the moon flask_!" _Screamed a shrill voice, making me flinch.

"_That was the moon flask? Oof, that's bad." _Not that I had an enormous repertoire on ceramic knowledge or anything, but that flask, in particular, had looked nice enough to be worthy of a few bucks.

Mop still in hand, I stared through the wooden arc and towards the unfolding drama, watching as the apprentice bowed again and again much to the monk's growing frustration.

"Alright! Alright!" The old man finally snapped. "Do go back to cleaning, please."

The apprentice sparkled with happiness. Quite literally, I'd say.

"_What the heck." _I closed my eyes tightly and opened them again, seeing that the shiny dots that had surrounded the kid's face had already disappeared. _"A trick of the light?"_

In an exaggerated manner, the apprentice pumped a fist in the air and enthusiastically turned around to continue with his duty. So enthusiastically, in fact, that he hadn't been paying attention to the duster's trajectory as his arm remained outstretched. As if in slow motion, the cleaning implement collided with yet another vase, which immediately rolled to the floor and shattered into pieces.

A beat, then―

With absolute disbelieve, I watched as the monk's face became red. So much so, that, for a moment, I thought he was suffering from a cardiac arrest.

Suddenly, there was steam coming from his ears. The pressure, though, as if too great, made his head enlarge and subsequently explode.

I shrieked in terror.

A few minutes later, the same monk kneeled before me. Next to him, the apprentice remained crouched and fanned my face as I hyperventilated, sitting in fetal position against the wall.

The monk's head looked normal again.

* * *

There weren't many people near my age in this temple. The youngest looking one, Guan himself, was 1500 years old and somewhat of a walking 'overly-polite NPC' line generator; thus, a bit tedious to talk to. Apparently, although young apprentices did come from time to time, most were already under the wings of other masters, and never arrived to stay for long.

"It's difficult to reach this place, and the temple's location itself isn't too well-known." Bai, the cook's assistant, explained to me once as we peeled potatoes. The conversation got interrupted when a towel smashed against his face. As for the cook's _gentle _petition, we returned to our work in silence.

Days transpired in this similar manner: Waking up at the crack of dawn to have breakfast; working until midday and then stopping for lunch; working for another few hours until break time arrived. Some would read, some meditated. I took naps, and, if I felt particularly sociable that day, talked to my fellow coworkers about whatever topic I could think of. Dinner, washing up, and going to bed were the activities that put an end to the day.

All in all; a very simple way of life. A bit of a boring one, as well. It could've been better, had I had something to do during break times other than what I already did. Reading was scratched out of the list: Most of the material available consisted of scrolls. Scrolls, that, to be clear, were written in standard mandarin. Or was it ancient Chinese?

(Not that my Anglo-Saxon, Canadian arse would've been able to tell the difference.)

So, life inside the temple? As stimulating as a cup of caffeine-free coffee: One with no shots of tequila available to sweeten the deal. Not too different from my own routine.

At least Kimiko carried a gaming console. How come I ended up with Guan, spear enthusiast extraordinaire, and not with the cool kids of the main cast? That's how these stories usually went, after all.

Now, about this, I wouldn't complain. The life of a main character, although never boring, sounded tedious to deal with. And the dragon apprentices' security system, as far as I remembered from the show, left a lot to be desired. Overall, being part of the main story fell to the bottom of my priority list.

What could I even do? Peel potatoes and be cannon fodder, most likely.

"_Maybe I could draw again?" _I contemplated to myself but immediately discarded the suggestion. I wasn't sure if they had art supplies. Even if they did, I'd rather pay for them myself. Cartoon or not, the monks had already done a lot for me, and being a burden had never been something I strived for.

"_Maybe, after a month of work__―"_My mind reeled to a stop, suddenly catching on to the direction of my thoughts. Since when had I started considering the possibility of having to stay for the long-term?

"_But it is something I've to consider, is it not?"_

My head throbbed once, then two more times; overloaded with my attempts of keeping calm.

"Hey, Eliza!"

And, just like that, my thoughts snapped back into place.

Lu ran down the road, a disgruntled Bai barely keeping the pace just behind him. Lu's grin, while wide, looked too small on his square face and full cheeks; the kind that belonged to those who had yet to leave their childhood behind. Bai, although in his mid-thirties, was still one of the youngest monks of the temple, and therefore prone to get stuck with a babysitting role.

"What's up?" I greeted as they came closer.

"Are you doing anything now?"

"I'm watching grass grow if that counts," I said amicable enough, a bit amused at the scrunching of his nose. "Almost as fun as watching paint dry, but not quite. You can keep me company if you'd like."

"Erg, it's fine." His grin eased into a smile. "Just wanted to ask you something."

"Oh?"

"Say, is it true that you don't train here?" I took a moment to contemplate this question. Had no one told him? "I wanted to train with you, but Bai tells me you don't know how to fight."

"I don't" This confirmation, although convincing, wasn't entirely true. I did know some basics from my time as a karate student, but these skills were rudimentary to the point of uselessness. "I'm more of a guest, and I work because I want to, but I don't fight."

Bai huffed, thoroughly annoyed and very much done with Lu's shit.

"See? I told you so."

"You really like to tell a lot of stuff." The kid shrugged, but had enough shame to look a bit sheepish. "And not everything is factual, so…"

Bai's mouth hung open in gaping disbelieve and his small, beady eyes were filled with a matching sentiment. For a moment, I thought of stepping in to chide Lu for his lack of respect; the teenager did seem to be the kind of person who didn't acknowledge trouble until it bit him in the face.

Then again, he wasn't exactly wrong. Bai did like gossiping a bit too much.

"Well, excuse you! It's not my fault that my sources are sometimes a bit mistaken."

"That― that's still your problem, though, isn't it?"

"Alright, first of all―"

Unwilling to get stuck in the middle of someone else's bantering, I cleared my throat, effectively shutting both males up.

"As fun as this is to watch, shouldn't you both gentlemen be doing something productive with your free time?"

"Do you ever?" Bai challenged.

My jaw snapped close and I glared at him.

"…Alright, fair enough." The concession, although painful, became a lot easier to swallow at the knowledge that we'd share kitchen duty soon enough again.

"_Enjoy removing grease with cold water by yourself, ya hoser."_

"You could join us if you want," Lu interjected. "We were about to bring out the mahjong set."

I clicked my tongue in acknowledgment but remained unconvinced.

"Don't really know the rules of that game."

"That's fine! I can teach you as we play!" He sounded excited at the prospect of teaching me something. Perhaps, as an apprentice, it felt nice to be the one who taught for a change.

The game, although normally played by four, had to be somewhat modified in order for us three to play together. Bai took the board and tiles outside to the garden and we sat below a peach tree. I realized, soon enough, why nobody else had wanted to join us when we asked around.

"Why." I held my face in my palms as Bai claimed yet another victory. What should have been a single, one-hour long match soon turned into three. "Why is this game so confusing?"

"It's actually quite easy once you get the hang of it." Lu's smile, although attempting to be comforting, betrayed a smug edge to it.

"_He's like fifteen." _I reminded myself. _"Do not hit the child."_

My groaning sounded muffled, not unlike a diseased walrus, and I stared tiredly at the nuisances that had become my companions. The sun barely hung above Bai's shoulder and was already starting to paint the surrounding sky with an amber hue, signaling the beginning of the twilight.

"Huh."

"What is it?" Lu, who had started to put the tiles back into their wooden case, raised his head at the sound of my voice.

"It's way pass over break time. Weren't you supposed to be training?"

The teen merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Master Monk Guan was busy, so he gave me the day free."

"Busy?"

"I heard he went out today to find something." Bai, ever the nosy one, looked over to us with a conspiratorial and excited grin. "Some say he's searching for a way to become stronger."

Mahjong set now back into place, the three of us stood up and began walking back to the temple. It reminded me somewhat of high school; walking in line with friends as we chatted, occasionally blocking the way to pedestrians in a hurry.

"That'd be amazing." The younger man nodded. "Since the awakening of the Shen Gong Wu, the evil forces have been restless."

My step stuttered to a halt. The pounding had returned full force.

"_A way to become stronger."_

"Eliza?" Bai called out, aware that I no longer followed them, but his voice became a monotone droning in my ears.

"_Does this mean that he's looking for a dragon to get his spear back? Or did he already?"_

Had I fallen in the middle of the story? Could future events pose any sort of danger to me?

My eyes remained glued to the horizon, unfocused, disregarding my companions who now had halted as well.

"…Liz?" Lu tried once more, unsure, and noticeably perturbed. On the back of my mind surged the reminder that he hadn't spoken to me that much until the day of my panic attack.

"_Don't need to make him worry. He's just a kid."_

Finally, I cocked my head in his direction and gave him a half-smile.

"Sorry, my mind blanked out for a bit there. Let's get back inside, yeah?"

* * *

Regardless of how one tried to slice it, nobody could deny that my situation, aside from being abnormal, was shady as hell.

A so-called demon woman who had been summoned by goblins.

A demon woman, who, as I explained to my benefactors, had lost her memories and knew nothing of her way back home.

By all means, this story should have been met with disbelieve: Not only was it cliché, but awfully convenient as well, and worthy of raising red flags to anyone who possessed a working brain. Yet, this hadn't been the case.

Perhaps it worked because this was a cartoon world that followed cartoon logic. Perhaps Master Monk Guan knew but didn't care. Or maybe he did care and had figured that having me close, under his vigilance, could be more beneficial than simply throwing me away.

And while I had no way to know which were his actual thoughts, I couldn't deny that he and the other monks treated me with benevolence and patience: Both things of which I felt very, very grateful for.

I decided, on the fourth day after my arrival, that I'd repay them in kind. An extra hand would never hurt. And a lot of work and effort had to be put in order to maintain a temple, right?

Much to my chagrin, I had, as a matter of fact, guessed that part correctly. Not that I would complain, although I often found myself wondering whether it'd be appropriate or not to make the suggestion of modernizing the facilities.

And yes, while it probably was part of some sort of training regimen or lifestyle, it didn't make washing laundry by hand any less of a pain in the neck.

"_At least it keeps me busy during the day." _

The real problem began at night, when I lay on my mat in the darkness, alone with my thoughts.

"_What if can never go back."_

"_What if I'm actually in a coma."_

"_What if too much time has passed on the other side."_

"_What if everyone has already forgotten about me."_

"_What if they're dead."_

"_What if Samuel is dead."_

What if―

What if―

"Liz, may I come in?"

With the silence broken like shattered glass, my eyes snapped to the door and I rose on my mat, turning on the lamp that rested beside my sleeping spot. The silhouette of the monk could be seen through the rice paper door. A silence reigned during the few seconds my hesitation lasted.

Honestly, as grateful as I was to monk Guan, it had been mentally straining to talk to him these last two weeks. Out of everyone in the temple, not only had he been the sole witness of my incident, but he, as the temple's authority, had the final say of whatever should happen to me. Were he to ask questions ―questions I may not have the right answers for―, and dislike said answers…?

"_It's not like I can pretend to be asleep now."_

Although he hadn't inquired whether I was asleep or not, had he? He had asked for permission to come in.

Inhaling heavily through my nose, I cleared my throat and wettened my lips, before granting his request.

Guan opened the door softly and entered the room.

"Good evening." He greeted politely. "I hope I'm not bothering you right now. It must be inconvenient for me to visit at such an hour."

"Evening." I returned with a slight smile; a bit miffed as to why he had come. "And don't worry, I wasn't doing anything productive with my time. Just having a riveting staring contest with the ceiling."

The monk, sadly, didn't find my attempts of humor amusing and frowned in worry.

"Are you still finding trouble to fall asleep at night?"

"I'm getting enough sleep, don't worry." My smile became more of an awkward grimace as I scratched the side of my neck. "Maybe my internal clock is just weird. I'll probably get used to it with time."

"Regardless, we could serve you some jujube seed tea before sleeping for a good night's rest."

"No, that's alright, you've already done enough for me… But I'll say if I need some?" I added at the end, shaking my hands lightly in assurance as his gaze turned disapproving. "A-anyways. Is there something you want to tell me?"

"I do."

Although this statement had been one I'd expected, it didn't fail to fill me with trepidation.

We sat at a small, round table positioned in the corner of the room, and he rejected the only chair available when I offered it to him. As it turned out, this was a good idea.

"I went back to the clearing today."

And just like that, my stomach tightened.

For a while, none of us spoke. Instead, we merely stared at each other; assessing. Guan's expression remained solemn and mine barely molded into a façade of neutrality. My hand pressed onto the other from beneath the table to restrain their jittering. It did cross my mind that this fear was nothing short of irrational: I had done nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve punishment. And I was, if anything, the victim of this situation.

But how could anyone really know that? Whatever the facts were, in this world, no person existed that could vouch for me; only impression mattered. If evidence looked incriminatory enough―

"_This isn't a Nolan's story. It's not like they'd resort to torture." _I swallowed. If the continuity had to make sense, then no true harm would befall me, but as someone who'd already lived through the impossible once, this 'if' couldn't be something I should rely on.

"Liz?" Guan's voice pulled at my attention, and I realized I'd zoned out.

"Did you find anything?" The words felt thick and heavy.

"I didn't find much of your origins. I'm sorry." My gaze returned to his; surprised at the softness of his voice. He talked as if he were guilty. As if he had done something wrong. Slowly, and under his sincere eyes, the muscles of my back unwound. Did this mean I wasn't in trouble? That I'd still have a place to stay? "But―"

I blinked as I felt his hand holding mine. With a firm, yet harmless grip, the monk proceeded to uncurl my fingers, settling something on my palm. I took it in disbelieve.

"I found this on the grass. Goblins always carry trinkets and I had thought it belonged to one of them." My lower jaw shook and the world before me turned misty. "Now, I assume it really is yours, is it not?"

I could not answer him. He had given me a bracelet. My bracelet. I couldn't believe it had come here with me; I rarely forgot to put it aside before sleeping, but apparently that'd been the case. A nylon string that held blue, purple and red beads together; the cheap, plastic ones that could be bought in any art and craft store. The bracelet that Samuel had made for me.

A sob tore through my body and I bit a sleeve. Then, I felt the monk's hand on my shoulder, and I couldn't hold back anymore.

For the first time, in many years, I allowed myself to be hugged while I cried like a child.

* * *

"_This view is beautiful."_

We were currently in midsummer, and it showed. Clear days had been the norm since my arrival, different shades of greens, blues and browns blended with each other and painted the kind picture that I could only dream of replicating. I leaned further into the window. The sun sank through my yellow robes and into my skin, providing its rays as a blanket from the cold, insistent wind of the mountains. Despite my aching shoulders, a previously absent grogginess compelled me to sleep.

A good place to be lost in, all things considered.

Another week had come and gone with no hints of me "waking up" to reality. Slowly, and much to my displeasure, I began to realize that, like real life, change could only come by being proactive.

And man, did I hate that.

The biggest question laid on how to proceed. As far as the monks were concerned, my memories remained lost and I had no one to come look for me. While coming up clean was a possibility that I'd begun to consider more with each passing day, it remained uncertain to me of how confessing to my lies would be helpful. Yes, there were magic users in the Xiaolin Showdown universe, but opening a portal to another dimension― a specific one at that―, could be no easy feat. And I'd be dammed to be used as a guinea pig and end up in a more dangerous story, like Tokyo Ghoul, or some shmuck's fanfiction.

I shivered at the thought.

"Do your shoulders feel better?"

My face barely turned to look at Guan as he entered the room. He walked up to me, a clothed bundle of something in his hand, and left it on the windowsill.

"No."

"Well," he said as he unknotted the fabric, revealing a flask "why were you doing someone else's chores? Those boxes were clearly too heavy for you."

I shrugged, then grimaced in immediate regret.

"It was a bet. I lost."

"Mahjong again?" He sounded exasperated when I answered with a grunt. "I think this is developing into a problem."

"What's with everyone here and mahjong, anyway?"

I grumbled, arms crossed, my mouth stuck on a perpetual grimace. Guan merely kept smiling and passed me the flask. I begrudgingly accepted it, arms still shaking from my previous effort.

"It's a complex and well-constructed game. Great for abstract thinking, too."

"It's a game for people who think they are too good for poker, and who also like to show-off the fact that they can play mahjong. That's about it."

"Yet you still play it and bet on it?"

"_Well, yeah._" But he didn't have to rub that in. Prick.

I allowed my glare to do all the talking for me, ―not that he deserved anything more―, and brought the flask to my mouth. The medicine tasted bitter and tickled my throat as it went down. With a final scrunch of my nose, I handed him back the flask and stared pensively at the ceiling.

"… I guess I've been a bit bored."

"Is that so?" Sitting on the windowsill as well, the monk hummed. "Are you still sure you do not want to train with the others? Training would keep your mind and body occupied."

"Am I not too old to start that sort of training?"

"A bit." He smiled. "But it would not be 'that sort of training.'"

"You mean the basics, then?"

"More or less."

I bit my cheek, eyes rolling to a side in reflectiveness.

On one hand, martial arts weren't an unfamiliar concept to me. Knowing how to defend myself, also, seemed to be a good idea if I was supposed to remain living inside a story that, in a nutshell, revolved around fighting and getting stronger (The Power of Friendship ™ shenanigans aside).

On the other hand, despite whatever intentions the monks may have, I was still a squishy sucker with low levels of pain tolerance. I wasn't capable of running in a straight line, on a flat surface, for more than three minutes without becoming a panting mess. I was a Business & Management student, for Pete's sake, and a far cry from having my Serena Williams metamorphosis any time soon. And while I definitely had the good fortune of getting some cartoon blessings, such as the 'Made of Iron' trope, the fact of the matter was that I still hadn't shown any hints of possessing some greater strength that would aid me in battle.

I had pulled my back from carrying a few boxes. Becoming a Kung Fu master? That would end well.

No to mention that hand to hand combat freaked the hell out of me; reason for my early retirement from karate.

My current plan of not messing with the storyline, to blend in as a background character that nobody paid attention to, remained like a solid idea to me.

The monk suddenly called my name, and I realized I'd been zoning out for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"_Ah, yes. An answer. People usually expect those."_

"… I'll… think a bit more about it, yeah?"

Guan looked a bit puzzled but ultimately dropped the topic.

Still, there had to be something I could do in this place aside from working and sleeping and betting. Something to keep my mind busy. Being this inactive felt strange, and I could only imagine what dad would say upon seeing his daughter in such a state of idleness.

"_Never mind whether the horse is blind or not, just load up the wagon." _Man, did I hate that saying, but it did serve as a reminder to get things done, if nothing else.

"Can I draw?" I suddenly blurted out, taking Guan by surprise."It's ok if you say no, I was just wond―"

"Eliza." My eyes snapped to his. Despite being unable to read his face, his voice carried the distinctive gentleness that belonged to him. "It's alright. I do believe there is something for you."

* * *

Despite my enthusiasm, truth be told, I was far from being a good artist. Having stopped drawing in my fifteens only to continue a few months ago, I had yet to develop any sort of personal style and had many bases to cover from years of lacking practice.

That said, painting with Guan did make me feel good about every little drop of talent I had. Not because of his encouragement, but because despite being a 1500-year-old man with tons of worldly experience, he, too, was complete and utter shit at it.

"I… do not paint much. Sorry if it's disappointing."

Few people had a face that came with the effect of making one feel instantly guilty. Guan had one of those.

"Why are you apologizing?" I snorted. "I'm not that good either. See?" I comforted him, raising my own drawing to his face.

"I disagree. That's a very good apple tree."

It took a few seconds for me to comprehend his words. My eyes narrowed as they finally settled.

"I―It's a cherry tree, you know?" I pointed at the beforementioned fruit. "Those are cherries."

An awkward silence descended, thick and persistent, then―

"Yes, of course―"

"Nah, there's no need for that." Breathy, small laughter accompanied my words. "I know they are too big to be cherries."

"… What about apple-sized cherries?"

He sounded relieved and amused at the same time. His good humor was contagious.

"Yeah, sure. They are apple-sized cherries."

We had settled on a porch, facing one of the inner gardens, and painted not far from a group of chanting monks. The watercolors had a nostalgic feeling to them and looked as if they'd been used many times. I wondered who else painted in this place.

Moments like this were ones I could forget myself in: Forget that I was far away from home and trapped inside someone else's dream. It felt good, too. Having no real responsibilities, three meals a day, and knowing that this world wasn't falling apart like my own.

Of course, these moments weren't meant to last.

Guan's break was over sooner as a frantic monk approached us from behind. He stood up and nodded at me, signaling to continue, before walking away with his increasingly nervous companion.

"…They got another… Shen Gon Wu…" I managed to catch before they disappeared inside the building.

The paper in my hands crinkled under the force applied. Reminders of an outside world were unwelcome. As long as I could remain in this paradise, untouched, until my time of going back home came, then―

I laughed under my breath, pressing the back of my hand to my eyes, before staring tiredly at the mountains.

_"Proactive. I said to be proactive, remember?"_

It did bother me; the knowledge that, although not illuded by it, I could become awfully comfortable in this world.

_"Be proactive."_ I had the advantage of being unrelated to the story. I had no qualities that made me stand out, and therefore, the privilege not to care.

A wave of anxiety made me clench my teeth. I wrinkled and tore the drawing, compressed it into a ball, and threw it to the side. It bounced farther than intended, rolling off the porch and onto an unknown location. On the back of my mind came the reminder that I'd have to pick it up before leaving.

What the monk said had come dangerously close to confirm what I'd feared and hoped for.

The Heylin were still on the hunt for Sheng Gong Wu.

Considering that Guan hadn't gotten his spear back, this could only mean one thing: There was still time before the plot kicked into gear.

I've never liked to become entrenched in messy situations, but I had no reason for getting involved in this particular mess, didn't I?

_"Screw it."_ Confidently, I jumped to my feet, eyeing the blurry horizon one last time before turning around. Maybe the monks had too much on their own plates right now, maybe this request would be selfish of me. But I couldn't afford to stay any longer, and the more time passed, the more probable it became for things to end up wrong. This wasn't a Nolan's story, right? The worst-case scenario consisted of them telling me there was nothing to be done. At least, from their side. Another possibility existed―

The recollection of red hair and green eyes flashed through my mind, and I shook my head. It would never come to that.

As I was ready to turn around to jump off the porch, litter cleaning now a priority, my legs wobbled and began to crumble beneath me.

Palms rising faster than I could process, I leaned against a nearby pillar to stabilize myself, brows furrowed in confusion. For a moment, I believed to be close to blacking out. As someone prone to hypotension, it did tend to happen.

But the ground hadn't stopped trembling.

Everything that occurred after this happened far too quickly for me to comprehend.

A deafening crackling, like thunder striking, forced me to cover my ears and I fell to the floor. My body trashed for a while as the movement around became more violent. I almost didn't notice when, out of nowhere, a pair of hands surrounded my forearms to jank me away. Pieces of dust and debris began flying in the air. One arm moved, and a hand came to rest on the lower parts of my face when I began to cough.

The world kept ringing. The aching of my back, previously dulled by Guan's medicine, had returned full force.

Eventually, my heartbeat calmed down and I recognized Lu's voice next to my ear.

"Are you okay!?"

It took all of my willpower not to be snarky. All of it.

The dust settled down, monks beginning to crowd the place. The porch had been destroyed, splintered: Something had grown through it. Just as the mass of bodies began blocking my vision, a dreadful kind of recognition made my stomach churn.

A tree had grown in the middle of the porch. A fruit tree that bore ―what appeared to be― apple-sized cherries.

I threw my head back against Lu's chest.

"Crude."

* * *

Made of Iron: From the T.V tropes page- "Damage is frequently done to characters that should hurt or incapacitate them, but is easily shaken off. Nobody ever breaks a rib or other bones unless that specific broken bone becomes important later on."


	3. Chapter 3

Butterfly Girl

Chapter 3: I, conceited

The world was filled with stories. Stories of love, of comedy, of war. Stories that unfolded with the turn of a page or that existed in photographs as scenes of light and shadows. As someone more (justifiably) pretentious than me had once said: "All the world is a stage".

My dad liked to tell me lots of stories as a child. The types of stories that, due to a later development in my teenagerhood, I had never bothered revisiting again, even if they still popped at the forefront of my thoughts on certain occasions.

And boy, what a perfect occasion for pops' words now was.

'_Now, see, this paragraph right here is a lesson of humility. It tells that, in a banquet, you should never sit on the seat of honor. If a person more important than you arrives and you are told to move, it'd be just embarrassing, right? But if you assume a lower place and the host insists there's somewhere better for you, then you'll be honored in front of the other guests.'_

'_So… 'don't be conceited'?'_

'_Well, yesn't.__'_

'_What if I sit in the worst place and no one says a thing?'_

'_Eh__―__'_ The clear memory of his verbal tick made me grin._ 'If that happens, you are probably the pity guest. Just go home at that point.'_

Yeah. My dad could be somewhat of a douchebag.

But, to his original argument, he did have a point.

"_Or, did he?"_

I really didn't know anymore.

My eyes were focused on the wall. Bai chattered next to me as he wiped the dishes dry, going on about the gardener (or was it the weapons master?), and his tragical, unrequited love towards the milkman's daughter. The one who lived in the village nearest to the temple, 'with the funny looking legs'.

He shook his head in disapproval. I had the strange urge to call him a douchebag.

"_Aren't monks supposed to forfeit relationships, anyway?"_

More importantly, the mundaneness of the conversation left a bad taste in my mouth.

The day after the incident― in other words, this morning―, I had left my room with the demeanor of a man on death row: Head hung low and stomach turned into knots. And how could this not be the case?

It was a tale as old as time. I had seen my fair share of this troupe in every type of media. A seemingly harmless character (who, to the audience, has enough red flags to supply a communist parade) conveniently forgets relevant information upon arrival, infiltrates the enemy base and befriends its people, only to do an entire 180 personality flip; going full Brutus on all them gullible suckers. Cartoon-based or not, this world, like my own, had to be built upon stories, including stories of betrayal.

They couldn't be this clueless, I thought, fiddling with the contents of my pocket.

Manifesting powers out of nowhere― That had to be the straw to break the camel's back, right?

No way in hell this wouldn't bring some sort of negative consequence: Questions, dirty glances. Mistrust, at the very least.

Yeah.

There had been fuck all of that.

"Miss Eliza." I stared at a friendly-looking monk, who, out of nowhere, had poked his head inside the kitchen through the window. "Did you wash the rags, by any chance?"

"Yes. I left them to dry on the third drying stand further to the right."

"Oh. Next to the blankets?"

"I think so."

He paused, most likely noticing the lack of liveliness in my tone.

"How's your back?" The monk questioned. His smile, though not as soft as Guan's, still managed to radiate an insufferable amount of warmth. "If it still hurts, just tell us. We can concoct you some more medicine if that's what you want."

"_What I want."_

I wanted to scream inside a pillow.

A few hours later, that's exactly what I did. I placed my face between two pillows, one of which hadn't previously been in my possession, and let out the most beautifully sonorous screech that I'd ever made.

Eventually running out of breath, I looked down at my hands, focusing on some stubborn specks of green paint that still clung under my nails.

A single thought began playing on repeat.

I needed to speak with Guan again.

* * *

Barely slithering through the dense tree crowns, the midday sun cast abstract shaped shadows upon the dark soil, cooling and protecting the surroundings from the relentless, summer glow. This, Wuya noticed as she stared at the ground.

Maybe it would finally stop her companion from constantly complaining about the heat.

"Have I mentioned that I'm not a nature kind of person?" Jack Spicer grimaced, slapping a mosquito away from his face. "Because I'm not."

He had mentioned it. Several times, as a matter of fact, between interludes that lasted, on average, fifteen minutes given or taken.

Not that she was counting or anything.

"Cease your whining." Wuya snapped, floating just a couple of meters at the very front. "If my memory doesn't fail me, we should be close by."

"And what if your memory _is_ failing you?" The teen grumbled. "You're a few thousand years old, ya know?"

Ticked off as she felt, Wuya didn't respond. Although neither did she warn him of a cobweb hanging just a couple of steps ahead, directly in their trajectory.

The Heylin witch didn't contain her grin as a sudden bout of screaming and wheezing came from behind.

_Ah, the small pleasures of life._

"Where are we going, anyway?" Jack asked through a gag once he regained his breath. They had been walking for hours, yet Wuya kept silent about her intentions, even as they reached darker and more distant parts inside the forest.

Which, to be honest, was starting to worry him a bit. Maybe even significantly.

Not that he'd admit to that.

For the first time in hours, the spirit raised her head, barely staring in his direction.

"To a monster den." She simply said.

A hand on his chin, Jack Spicer nodded in understanding.

"Oh. Alright."

It took a few seconds, but, much to her irritation, the realization did finally hit him like a sack of bricks.

(Only metaphorically speaking, to everyone's shame, Wuya thought).

His eyes, wide past their limits, were directed at the witch in an impressive show of utter disbelieve.

"Wait, what?! A- a monster den?" He squealed, voice a few decibels higher than what could be considered safe listening to. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. "That's the kind of thing that goes with a warning, you know?!"

"Then you wouldn't have come." She answered casually, not an ounce of shame present in her words.

The teen sputtered.

"Why are we even going to a monster den!?"

"To find a monster, Jack."

"You know what I mean!"

Wuya sighed, aggravated. For a second, it looked like Jack would point out the unfairness of this gesture but ultimately refrained at her glare.

"There's been sightings of a cyclops around these parts." The witch huffed. "If we can get our hands on them, then collecting the rest of the Shen Gon Wu will be a piece of cake!"

A thick silence descended between them. She should have known it wouldn't last long.

"Wha―" The boy squeaked, and he barely avoided tripping on flat terrain. "Um. Hello?" He gestured violently in the air. "What about my Jack-bots?"

"What about them?"

"I just― Why do we need to find more minions? My Jack-bots already do the heavy lifting by themselves!"

"Your bots have been useless until now, haven't they? We are doing things my way now!"

Wuya rubbed her hands in anticipation. It didn't matter what anyone said: Nothing could beat the old school methods of evil.

Her companion didn't seem to agree.

The teen gasped as he stopped walking, looking genuinely offended.

"We are doing things my way now." He mimicked mockingly under his breath.

Hearing something that sounded suspiciously like a growl, Jack flinched and raised his hands in surrender.

Wuya returned her attention to the task at hand, a frown still in place, albeit for different reasons. Cyclopes weren't creatures of subtlety. The destruction they left on their wake generally betrayed their presence: Footprints that branded the ground for days, broken tree barks and rock formations, fluids of dodgy origin that coated the surfaces.

(Which, coincidentally, were also a complete nightmare to clean).

Not that this last point would be any of her concern, with Jack at her beck and call.

"_Maybe those farmers were wrong?"_

Then again, with no master to tame them, cyclops could be rather whimsical creatures. Additionally, their resilience and height allowed them to travel great distances throughout the day.

Still―

"_There should be at least some signals if it passed through here."_

Those idiots had probably pointed her in the wrong direction.

"Um. Wuya? I hate to interrupt you when you're looking so grump― uh, busy." His voice broke at different intervals, somehow managing to sound even more cowardly than usual. "But, ah, I think we should get back."

"No."

And that was that.

Or at least, it should've been.

"Wuya." Jack insisted, irritation intermingling with panic, his head twitching repeatedly for no apparent reason. "I really, _really _think we should get out of here."

That's when Wuya noticed: Jack's sudden mannerisms had a purpose. His head bobbed in a particular direction, pointing not far from where they'd been headed.

The specter caught a flash amidst the darkened foliage.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. She began floating away, directly towards their stalker.

"Hey!" The teen whispered harshly. "Where do you think you're going!?"

His question was left unanswered. Jack took a hesitant step forward.

"Wuya?"

A howl resounded throughout the forest. Jack screamed along with it.

* * *

"_Of course."_

These two words had echoed inside my mind throughout the day, with little variance to speak of. It made me wonder if there existed a specific concept that could accurately summarize what I was currently feeling. Perhaps it did exist― in another language, that was. In any case, I had no knowledge of it, and therefore I couldn't help but think again:

"_Of course."_

My hand twitched, inching to the edge of the mat, before retiring rapidly under the covers.

Glaring at the ceiling, I squeezed the pillow in my arms with all the rage accumulated in the last 48 hours. It was a nice pillow, to say the least, and the best one out of the six I'd hoarded.

Inconsiderate? Maybe so. Then again, I couldn't be bothered to feel guilty right now.

Some people had comfort eating, binge drinking, or stress-sleeping as their coping mechanisms. I liked to lay on cushions like a dragon on its pile of gold. And goddammit if I didn't need all the comfort I could get.

It had been as if the stars had aligned with the sole purpose of throwing bullshit after bullshit at me.

Everything began with a tree; one that bore apple-sized cherries. A tree that, somehow, against all logic and possibility, had been drawn by little old me into existence.

"You know," I spoke to the empty room. "If I'd wanted to relive some arbitrary part of my childhood as an uninspired, dollar store Mary Sue, I'd have asked. I didn't ask."

Unsurprisingly, there was no response to my words.

There had been no response to my actions either.

An hour after my first display of powers ―an event which I now referred to as 'the incident'―, Guan had met me in the infirmary.

'Had you forgotten about your powers as well?' His question, free of any hostility or accusation, remained at the forefront of my mind.

'I didn't know I had them.' Had been my sincere answer, not in a mood to lie.

'It's a good thing you were not hurt. Do not worry about the damages. We will have them repaired in no time.'

At that time, I hadn't known what to say. The conversation came to an end and I was walked back to my room, my previous decision forgotten.

His nonchalance had astounded me. Yet it didn't amaze me as much as everyone's unconcern did.

"_Perhaps 'amaze' is the wrong word."_

If I had to be honest, the lack of reaction pissed me off. For petty reasons, mostly.

And, despite everything, it remained the lesser of my problems at the time.

Not even half a day had passed since 'the incident' when a very much familiar ―and very much unwelcome― tugging sensation made itself known in the lower parts of my abdomen.

"_Weak as a stick? Check. Blind as a bat? Check? My inners slowly strangling themselves to death? Absolutely checked._"

Hui― God? ― whichever power had the reigns to my pathetic life, couldn't even be bothered with making me a proper Mary Sue. No wonder the monks weren't alarmed at my newly found powers. I wouldn't have been afraid of me either.

And Guan was gone.

'What kind of leader would leave at such an important time?' Asked literally anyone with a brain cell and a half.

Well―

Let's just say, it had become clear to me why the fate of this world was constantly left in the hands of literal children.

The door slid open. Guessing the identity of my visitor, I buried myself further into the cocoon of blankets and feathers.

"I brought you another heating pad," Bai informed me, sounding as awkward as he probably looked, and only got closer when I signaled him to do so. Were I in a better mood, this would've been almost amusing.

Pity this could not be the case.

"Uh." The monk stuttered. "Is there anything else you need?"

"_Yes. I need to know why the lot of you are such colossal morons." _

"… I could get you some chocolate?" He tried despite the silence.

The smallest of smiles twitched its way to my face. I felt almost tempted to remind myself that I was still mad.

Damn, was I tired of being mad. Chocolate sounded nice.

"We could go take a walk later. You've been here for almost two days."

My smile dropped. Nevermind, I thought.

"No."

"Well, what will you do then?" He groaned. "Make a pillow fortress and sulk inside of it the whole afternoon?"

"I'm not sulking."

"Liz―"

"I'm. Not. Sulking."

Something in my words made him pause and then grimace. The gears behind his eyes seemed to turn. He gulped, looking as if he were preparing to feed a rabid raccoon by hand, which caused me to roll my eyes.

Did he really think that I would chew his head off just for being on my period?

More importantly, would anyone blame me if I did?

"What if I say I have a deal for you?" He began, tantalizing. "We can go to the village and I'll get you an ice-cream."

"Am I a kid?" I snorted. "Why would I go all the way down there, in pain, to get ice-cream out of all things?"

"Not a kid." He scoffed. "You sure are behaving like one."

I threw a pillow at him. He avoided it with ease, the prick.

"Chocolate, Ice-cream. What's with that, anyway? Are you taking some sort of advice from a teenage magazine?" I sat on the mat, stretching an arm behind my back. The lack of an answer made me frown. My eyes cracked open to Bai's scrunched up face, looking like someone who had just swallowed a cup of nails.

Why the hell did he glare like that?

It then hit me like a sledgehammer.

_"No way."_

Mouth falling in comprehension, I gazed up at him, disbelieve evident on my face. I tried to regain my composure. Tried. And succeded for about six seconds, I think. before bending over and cackling. "Oh, boy. Oh, boy! You actually are! You're such a massive dork!"

Bai, in an impressive demonstration of an evasion maneuver, turned around as he prepared to leap. His body aimed towards the open window.

"Wait! Wait, don't go!" I hugged his arm as he attempted to leave. "I changed my mind. Let us go to the village! I don't want ice-cream, though. Can we get one of those crepé looking things from last time? They looked super good!"

"No." He spat, throwing my previous refusal right back at me. I tugged at the limb harder and my grin eased into a smile. Bai scoffed. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not Master Guan, I'm not going to budge."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

He did budge. Of course he did.

I had been in the village only on a few occasions since my arrival in this world, not for any lack of curiosity, although I didn't have much of an incentive to leave the temple in the first place. This village, in addition, was way, way too far away. Putting my baby-pouch's current murder attempt aside, even if the Xiaolin monks had no problem going down the mountain several times a day, I had become way too fond of my legs during the twenty-two years of my life to do them dirty like that.

Hence, humiliating as is was, I didn't complain when Bai got on one knee to show me his back, signaling me to get on.

Rows of trees― Redwood? Cedar? Not that I knew― bordered the path we followed, leading to several hectares of forest. Like a horse on a merry-go-round, Bai's body bobbed as he navigated the uneven terrain, causing me to bounce and tighten my grip on his neck.

Just as one does with horses, you know?

He didn't appreciate the comparison. Not even the second time.

"_I haven't had anyone giving me a piggyback ride since I was, like, seven."_ The thought, bittersweet, made me smile against my arm. Feeling me move, Bai adjusted his position to fit mine in a way that almost resembled an afterthought.

The subtlety of his gentleness made me pause―

Something pooled in my stomach: A concoction of indescribable feelings that didn't quite feel right nor wrong.

A kind of guilt, but not quite.

"Bai―" I began. He paused and so did I. The right words escaped me, almost forgotten, and as I considered brainstorming them anew, something peculiar caught my attention. "Hey." His shoulders felt as hard as stone beneath my hands, tense. With a sickening crack that made me worry, Bai's head twisted to the right to face the forest. My eyes followed. I didn't see anything out of place.

But the intensity of his gaze felt wrong.

To be honest, it freaked me out. Not as much as his next actions did, though.

Finally, after what appeared to be an eternity, the monk let out a breath of relief. His fingers on my legs uncurled, and only then did I notice he had tightened his grip on them in the first place.

He hopped over a rock and continued walking, sauntering like a mountain lion with not a worry in the world. The previous events, evidently, had been erased from his mind.

I gaped at him. Incredulous didn't really cover it.

As if sensing my stare, he explained: "I thought I felt something looking at us. A green shadow. It was just a bird."

This didn't make me feel better. Nevertheless, I nodded, settling my head back on the crook of his neck.

From afar, I saw a lightning strike.

* * *

It was crazy to think that there had been simpler times once. Simpler kinds of evil, too. Strange to think that, not too long ago, he'd have found himself build ing and planning the days away in his laboratory; any thoughts of the supernatural too foreign, too far away, for his genius, rational mind to even consider.

"Will you get off of me now!?"

The creature: Red, small, pointy-eared, and very much attached to his waist, wailed even harder. Jack Spicer cringed and shivered, sticking both of his pinky fingers inside his ears as he gave Wuya a helpless look.

The witch mouthed something and then sighed, visibly irritated. She pointed at the side of her head with a spectral arm. Getting the message, the teen's hands fell back in place.

"Give it a minute. It'll grow tired and leave."

Jack nodded in a rare display of gratefulness. Then, ten minutes more passed.

The creature's babbles, sporadic in their ways, became more and more incomprehensible as streams of tears and… something― he chose to ignore what it was― ran down its face. Jack considered giving it a pat on the back but thought better of it.

"What even is… this?"

"It's a goblin." She said with distaste, chewing the word and spitting it out. "They're barely little more than a pest. Even someone like you could take on a couple of them."

Jack perked up. "Really?"

"With your bots, I mean."

His shoulders sagged.

The goblin chimed in with nothing intelligible, squeezing the teen a bit tighter to its body. Jack's felt his patience snap. He glowered at the creature.

"Seriously, what even is your deal?!"

He just wanted to go home, eat the pie granny had left for him in the fridge and take a bath. He admitted this much out loud.

"Alright, alright!" The Heylin witch rolled her eyes. "We'll get nowhere today anyway."

Wuya faced the whimpering beast. Her gaze traveled down, up, then down again. Her eyes narrowed, considering, gleaming in the darkened forest with the intensity of a woman with a mission. Suddenly interested, Jack tried to ignore the dampness beginning to seep through the fabric of his coat.

He wondered what she had in mind.

With a decisive nod, Wuya straightened in preparation―

―and floated right through the goblin's body.

The creature tensed, then shivered, before immediately jumping away from the duo. It squealed all the way to its landing, after which he scampered inside the bushes. They stood still, waiting in silence. It had disappeared for good.

"Done!" Wuya exclaimed proudly. Her head snapped at Jack's disappointed groan and she shot him a dirty look. "What's the problem?"

"Nothing." He cleared his throat.

Honestly, he was more than ready for the day to end. The outing, which he had been led to believe to be brief, had taken the whole morning and half of the afternoon. So much had yet to be done back at the lab. More planning, more assembling, coming up with ways to fill his steadily drying bank account.

(This last one really needed to be prioritized, he thought.)

Empty-handed, they began making their way back, background noise changing from the thrill of birds to the constant chirping of crickets as time passed. Jack rubbed his shoulder and groaned. His back was killing him.

He fiddled with his goggles, activating night vision after the second time he tripped on an unseen root.

"You know." He began after a while, motivated by the need to fill the growing silence, his boredom at a boiling point. There was no answer. It didn't really deter him. "It was a bit pitiful."

"What was pitiful?" Asked Wuya, disinterested.

"The goblin thing. I think his girl left him or something. He went on and on about a woman."

"You seriously understood that thing?"

Jack ignored her rude tone and hummed "Looked like he had it bad. Called her a goddess, too."

The air surrounding them turned cold; colder than it had previously been. The witch had stopped in the middle of the road. _"Did she notice something interesting?" _A shiver went up his spine and Jack rubbed the side of his neck, confused.

"What?" Wuya's voice sounded strained, gritty, as if afflicted with a bad case of the sniffles.

"He called her a 'Goddess' and 'Dark Lady' and all the weird stuff. Seems like a really bad break-up, doesn't it? It's kinda like―."

Jack shut his mouth as he looked back at the witch. The force with which he had done so hurt his teeth.

He didn't like the way she looked at him. No― the way she looked past him.

"…Wuya?" His call came hesitant, almost nervous. Jack swallowed and forced a snicker. "Hey, what's the matter? Are the millennia finally catching up to you?"

It was as if a spell was broken.

She shook her head, the way one does when getting rid of a ridiculous idea and pinned the boy with a glare.

The witch hissed, "Be quiet." But her voice, tamer than usual, did nothing to quell his anxiety. Forgoing his false bravado, Jack opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, only for Wuya to turn around and drift away.

He stood there, dumbfounded.

Then, he realized that he had been left behind.

"Hey!" Jack shouted and hurried after her. "I don't know the way back!"

* * *

The world was filled with stories. As far as I was concerned, mine has never been an interesting tale: It all begins with a girl, born in an unencumbered family of immigrants, who likes to dream of silly things. Growing up, she faces some problems (as one typically does), manages not to royally screw up (as one would typically hope not to), and is able to reach her twenties with minimal damage done to everyone involved.

Moving out, now a woman, she's lucky and― dare she say? ― functional enough not to end up fighting pigeons for stale breadcrumbs on a sidewalk in Ottawa. She has hopes for a future no worse than this. That's pretty much it. Although mediocre in a way, life is good.

In short: There has never been a place for her in the grand scheme of things. For me, I mean. I've always been fine with that.

Perhaps I was still unimportant. Maybe, just maybe, I had rushed into conclusions.

A world filled with reality changing artifacts, children that fought as living weapons, random-ass mimes with superpowers... surely my own abilities couldn't be that impressive? I could still consider myself out of the bigger picture. No one saw me as a threat because I wasn't one. For sure, It had been some sort of hubris that had made me think otherwise.

Brushing a strand of long, damp hair behind my ear, I closed the door to my bedroom. Bai had been right for once: The change of scenery had proven to be good, even if the rain had cut our outing short.

I stood still, silent, listening for any kind of activity outside. Nothing. My hands trembled with anticipation. I fiddled with the contents of my pockets, the way I had done the whole day. A crinkle, that sounded way too loud in the empty room, made me pause yet again. The same strange feeling from before threatened to resurge.

_"Too late for any regrets now._" It was going big or going home. I retrieved the hidden knickknack out of my robe.

A square sheet wax paper stained my fingers with grease. Although grumbling and mumbling, Bai had, in fact, delivered as promised: The crepé had been delicious, if not a bit too salty. He had commented on this, I remembered.

'Aren't women supposed to like sweet foods?'

This question, of course, had been met with my elbow to his ribs. The fact that he was this much of a loveable moron made me feel bad for my decisions.

Not bad enough, of course.

Cautiously, I raised the corner of my mat, in that slow, painful way people choose to stupidly rip off bandaids sometimes. A slight peek followed this operation, pursued by a sigh of relief. The piece of charcoal I had retrieved from the kitchen that morning remained in its place. Its acquirement had been impulsive. I couldn't say the same about the rest of my actions.

_"I feel like a criminal." _

But I wasn't, right? At least, the monks didn't seem to think so.

The piece of charcoal, now pressed against the paper's surface, became a lot lighter in my hand. I paused to think for a bit, deciding on something familiar to begin with.

A flick of my wrist followed another. "_Cherry-flavored apple.". _The thought reverberated with intent. I echoed it to the walls, just in case.

Placing the finished drawing on the floor, I waited, apprehensive, but the smudged imitation of the heart-shaped fruit remained unmoving, much to my growing frustration.

In a last-ditch effort, I added a leaf to its stem. It did absolute Jack.

The idea of bashing my forehead against the floor seemed suddenly very, very attractive to me.

Had I actually been worried about nothing? "_I swear, if it actually was the watercolors this whole time_ ―" What a waste of perfectly good angst that'd be, I thought, totally not bitter about my failure.

Throwing my head back, I looked towards the sky. The ceiling. Whatever. Ready to shake my fist at the Great Goddess Hui in demand for compensation. However, this proved to be unnecessary. The momentum my impromptu prayer position had required forced my two remaining brain cells together. Out of the sudden, an incredible idea sucker-punched me in the face.

With renewed hope, I took the drawing in both hands, and proceeded to rip it in half. Everything else happened in a blink.

The ribbons gained a mind of their own; that was the only way I could describe it. Attracted to each other as if they were magnets, they twisted and melded into each other. Steam raised and disappeared as matter reshaped itself before my very eyes. It became translucent at first, then red, the color suddenly budding from its center before spreading outwards.

Where there had been nothing, I now stared at an apple on the floor.

Picking it up, it didn't feel any different than a normal apple. Same texture, same weight.

I brought the apple to my nose and inhaled.

Yep, still an apple.

It did hit me how ridiculous this must've looked from the outside.

_"If it smells like charcoal, looks like charcoal, and feels like charcoal, then it's probably fruit."_

I took a bite out of it and chewed. Crispy and juicy, I thought. Too crispy, in truth.

My head was out of the window in no time.

It tasted like cherry, alright, if people blended cherries whole, pit included. The air rushed to greet my face. I faced down and spat on the ground, beholding the resulting fruity mush with a grimace. Dark spots of debris were scattered inside the paste. Charcoal bits, I realized, were embedded in the apple's white flesh.

"Well, that's interesting." I managed to croak out around a grimace.

The caw of a bird caught my attention. A crow, perched on the tree that stood just in front of my window, stared at me with curious, beady black eyes. For some reason, the owl of the movie Labyrinth came to my mind. I frowned. Checking quickly that no one was outside, I tossed the rest of the apple to the garden. It rolled and disappeared under the foliage. Startled, the crow cawed again, flapping its wings. It ogled at me with something I decided to be disapproval.

"Sorry," I said, sheepish. The strange need to apologize made this statement sincere.

Stepping aside, I closed the window, making a mental note to stash the charcoal piece again.

* * *

**A/N: Oof, I think this chapter was very difficult for me to write, to convey what I wanted to convey. I had to rewrite the last part so a future event would make sense, too. I'm kinda setting the scene right now. I won't take much longer.**

**Guest I: Welp, I'm glad you like the beginning and the fact that she's an adult. I'll do my best to make this an interesting story!**

**Guest II: I think it's alright if I spoil this one, since it will never be truly confirmed in the story, only speculated: It's indeed because she's a person from the "real world", but what exactly her powers **_**are **_**will be better explained as the story progresses.**

**Guest III: Samuel is someone very dear to her, for reasons explained later, but he's not her son. He's family, though.**

**Guest IV: Cool! My chapters usually have a length between 3000 and 6000 words. It's one hell of a gap, so just heads up, hah!**

**Noface: Haha, nostalgia is contagious like that. I personally never watched Chronicles… I did watch the clip in which Chase lays an egg and then cries so… yah, I don't think Chronicles is for me :P**

**Scarlettravencrow: Thanks! And you bet!**

**HarmonyGirl567: Done!**


	4. Chapter 4

Butterfly Girl

Chapter 4: I, their friend

Some were fond of saying that life is full of learning experiences. I preferred to refer to them as "no shit" moments, as they become plenty obvious when one thinks of them in retrospect. Like touching a piping hot iron as a kid and realizing that it's, you know, hot. Or accepting that you were an absolute doofus as a child, no matter how much your loved ones liked to tell their distant relatives otherwise.

On that same vein, I had learned an important lesson since my decision of putting that charcoal piece into use.

It being: Everything is an art supply if you're brave enough; from rice paper and leaves to pencils and beet juice. The inability to access conventional drawing material forced me to be creative with my experiments.

Nevertheless, this had led me to an enormous realization.

If it could be drawn on and then broken, it could exist.

"Possibly," I muttered, careful to keep my own volume low. The monks, as recently discovered, could be more perceptive than I'd given them credit for. Now, to be fair to me, I hadn't given them too much credit in the first place, but I couldn't deny that keeping my activities secret had proven to be a rather challenging task. More so when one of said monks was ―for lack of more pleasant words―a needy idiot who cared.

Cared too much, if someone asked me.

"So, Liz," Bai's eyes shifted in my direction. "you've been suspiciously eager to go back to your room early these days." His subtlety, as always, was not too different from an elephant's in a china shop. I made a quick mental note to make him aware of this flaw one of these days. It would probably become convenient to do so, or so I figured.

Not that it was now.

"I'm just getting tired faster as of recent. It's probably the weather." I pointed to the grey skies, mindful of the laundry in my arms. The rain from a few days ago had become persistent since its first arrival; most likely a consequence of how hot it had been the previous weeks.

Bai stared on, visibly unconvinced, and made sure to let me know this as he drawled a biting 'Suuure'. He'd hit the douche-bro-dialect nail right on the head, too. It managed to be both impressive and incredibly irritating at the same time.

"_This hoser is a monk." _

My eyes fell to the side, mindful to insert the correct dose of mockery in the following sentence."What prompted this conversation, anyway? Ya feeling lonely or something?"

He scoffed, looking very much ready to argue, but dropped the subject as expected. I resisted the urge to sigh to myself.

Truth be told, the past four days had been a logistical nightmare. Gathering supplies and then getting rid of the evidence under everybody's noses wasn't easy-breezy at all. On the third day, Bai took exception to my continuous rejections to play Mahjong with him―an activity which I'd ditched in favor of research― and had thus concluded that something fishy was going on.

(An insinuation that I didn't appreciate, by the way. I didn't like Mahjong that much. Guan couldn't be more wrong; this wasn't developing into a problem).

Between Bai's meddling and the fear of being found out, any progress of discovering my new powers could only be described as abysmal at best. Which, truth be told, grated on my nerves.

Like, a lot.

"_At least I can channel frustration into productivity." _I thought, reaching for another blanket to fold.

On the flip side, my learning attempts hadn't all been for naught. The experiments had confirmed certain rules.

Firstly, whatever it was that I created, always had at least one characteristic, or remnant, from one of the mediums it had been made with. Like the charcoal pieces inside the apple. Besides this, and as far as I knew, I could manipulate certain numbers of attributes at a time, such as taste, size, texture, and smell. Not as much as I'd like to know, but it was a beginning. Bringing things inside my room unnoticed had proven to be more difficult than expected, and I realized that I'd need an alibi in order to continue unbothered until Guan's return.

I had finally come up with a new idea.

"Monk Yiduan and I were talking today." Bai disclosed, his tone casual as he unloaded a new basket on the table. "He mentioned that you're interested in meditation."

"Yeah."

"You've never been interested in this sort of thing."

"I'm now."

He brought his hands together, as if praying, and rested them under his chin. Something that sounded suspiciously close to a hiss came from his direction.

"And you're planning to do it alone? In the forest?"

"I can't concentrate when other people are around me." My smile widened, acquiring a saccharine quality to it that bordered on nauseating. "Monk Yiduan has given me some pointers, so I'll know what I'm doing. Kinda. I'll ask for help if there's something I don't understand."

'Bullshit.' His eyes accused. I swallowed a nervous smile, humming as to buy me a few seconds. The conversation was in dire need of being redirected to safer territories. "_Alright, so what did that one uncle of mine do every time people gave him crap for starting political arguments during Christmas dinner?"_

"You know, Bai." I said suddenly, my brow furrowed in concern. "You look to be in a bad mood lately. Grumpy. What's really the matter?"

His eyebrow twitched, then fell. I suddenly felt very good and very bad about my decisions.

"I'm not grumpy." He grumbled, sounding very much like a cat fresh out of the bathtub. Channeling my inner cashier, I plastered on a faux smile; the kind that gave people a rotting tooth.

"Riiight." I parroted. It was the same kind of drawl he'd used before, the tick below his eye informing me that he'd noticed.

"I am not."

"Yeah, and I believe you."

We kept folding in silence. I counted the seconds in my mind.

"_68, 69. Nice. 70, 71."_

Finally accepting his loss, the monk sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The new record was quietly filled and thrown at the back of my mind. One day, he would realize the futility of trying to out-stubborn someone like me.

Today wasn't that day.

"One of my students is finding their training… hard. I can tell he's becoming demotivated, but he's rejecting any kind of conversation."

I nodded, not completely sure why he played the pronoun game, considering that Lu was his only student as of now.

"What are you gonna do about it, then?"

"That's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"What." A chuckle escaped me as I shook my head at him. "Why would I know what to do?"

Moving his hands in circles, Bai cringed, the appropriate words seeming to elude him. "Aren't you women better at... you know... talking? Having hearts to hearts, managing children an all of that?"

"No, that's... not how it necessarily works, dude."

"But you are better with them than me, right?"

I probably was. Not that I felt like entertaining that line of thought any further. My pleasant smile dropped to a deadpan, and I rolled my eyes at him.

"I can't exactly help if I have no knowledge or any context on whatever the problem is."

Something hit the table with a loud _bang. _I jumped at the sound, almost dropping the half-full basket of laundry to the floor. Barely avoiding whiplash by the hair, my neck twisted in preparation to scream at my companion. The words died in my mouth.

The piles of fabric had been discarded to the side. Bai laid his bare palms on the table, his knuckles cracking as he grabbed onto it in frustration. His expression of anxiousness made me take another look. Bai was impatient, easy to irritate, to rile up. He was never anxious.

"At least he would probably be willing to talk to you. To me, though―?" He suddenly turned to look at me, and my heart dropped at the bluntness of his gaze. "Recently, it seems like nobody does."

The bout of understanding that came with this jab exacerbated the initial feelings of guilt. I hadn't known he would feel that left out, and in a way, I found it a bit absurd. It had been just a few days...

"_But is this actually surprising_?_" _

Perhaps it had to do with his specific character troupe. Perhaps it had to do with his age. At 33, excluding the disciples and me, Bai was the youngest of the temple and lacked the type of composure that his seniors possessed. And while he was, by no means, on bad terms with the others, I couldn't deny that it had been easier for us to relate to each other. I, as a friend. To Lu as a mentor. A feeling of warmth, the kind that resembled heartburn, throbbed uncomfortably beneath my chest. I decided to blame it on lunch. My brain whirled with ideas as I thought about what to say.

A flick to my forehead made me flinch before I could register what had happened. I stared at Bai's offending hand, cross-eyed and confused.

His frown had finally settled into a more neutral expression, but he still looked tired. As tired as I felt. Something shifted in his eyes. His pupils moved side to side, looking for something in my face. He put an end to the behavior with a sigh. Something prickled at the back of mind.

_"Weird."_

Hoping into my previous train of thought, I decided to ignore the strangeness of his mannerisms. My mouth opened in preparation for an apology. "Hey..."

But Bai would have none of that. He flicked my forehead a second time, only to grin at my warning growl. "There's still work to be done. Come on now. There's this thing I heard recently that's been making the rounds―"

_"In some way, it's nice to have people in your life you can't feel any guilt for." _

The thought didn't amuse me as I hoped it would.

(It occurred to me that, maybe, I could spare some time to play Mahjong).

* * *

Another day passed.

'Look before you leap.' 'Curiosity killed the cat.' 'Precaution is better than cure.' '

Collecting proverbs, especially those of a cautionary nature, had always been one of my lesser-known habits. Not for academic purposes, mind you. But because, as a colossal dingdong, I could never have enough arsenal to keep myself alive when common sense failed to do so.

Big fat help had that proven to be.

'Don't run if you can't walk.' That should've been easy enough to remember.

'_Don't run if you can't walk.'_

"Shoot, shoot, shoot!"

Sprinting through the forest, I avoided several tree branches to the face, my eyes focused on the hint of a shadow that bounced a few meters ahead of me, fleeing, _taunting__―_

It'd been a bad idea―no shit― when I thought about it in retrospect. Having never created anything more complex than fruit, or a tree, I didn't have any business in doing what I'd done. Being completely alone, for the first time in weeks, had made me cocky. And so, I screwed up.

I screwed up big time. Two times, really.

The second mistake squirmed against my hold: A Leaf-green cricket, its body made of actual leaf and graphite, that wiggled its limbs in disapproval. It twisted and turned with an effort to join its fugitive brother. I had caught one of them in time. The other, not so much.

In a way, the experiment was a success. I'd told them to jump, yes, but to stop at any given time? Obviously not.

"_I have to catch it."_ My concern grew as it became harder and harder to chase after the reanimated insect. I had no way to know what kind of effect it'd had on the ecosystem if it escaped. Or, if one of the monks were to find it.

Out of nowhere, a shadow swept across the sky to dive close to the ground. Digging my heels deep in the soil, almost falling at my abrupt halt, I gapped in disbelieve at the sudden absence of the runaway cricket. It took a few seconds until I noticed it.

A crow, now perched on one of the nearby branches, threw its head behind to swallow the bug with gusto; the feathers of its neck fluffing up against the strain. It had been a rather big cricket, after all. My eyes narrowed in disgust. Clutching the remaining cricket close to my chest, I leaned against a tree, allowing my body to slip against the roughened bark and to the ground.

"Well―" I managed to get out as I panted, relief and irritation coming in waves. "Thanks for that. I hate you."

The caw that followed sounded as uninterested as it could get. Human-like to a disturbing point. In a way, this didn't surprise me much anymore: Most animals in this world seemed to possess a deeper awareness of their existence. Mind going on a tangent, I wondered if this was the same crow; the one I kept seeing outside my window. Borb, as I'd named him. He liked to peck on the fruit that I poofed into existence and subsequently got rid of, never letting the rest of the murder get closer.

A gluttonous tart through and through. I'd taken to occasionally speak to him.

"Hey buddy, explain. I thought this magic thing was supposed to be easy?"

He ignored me in favor of preening his wings. I rubbed my eyes, exhausted, the former exercise catching up to me.

"_Okay, so maybe I shouldn't jump to draw living things like that. Take it slow."_

But I'd grown tired of taking things slow. And that was bad; a bad thing to grow tired of.

If only Guan hadn't left, he could help me figure things out― This had become a more recurring thought with time, that Guan, in spite of all his years and wisdom, rivaled, if not defeated, Bai in terms of douchebagness. Going through my memories of the show, I couldn't help but become more convinced of this idea.

Stole a sentient dragon from a bunch of gullible kids. Sent beforementioned dragon to its death in an exchange for one of his spears. Yes, one of them; one out of the hundreds that kept collecting dust inside some hut in the temple. Then, because he couldn't stand to be just this much of a moron, he goes to abandon the clearly confused woman with unconfirmed powers with the rest of his unguarded peers. Like a dumbass. Like a dick.

(And yeah, I was still feeling salty about that last bit, but that didn't make my criticism any less valid).

My inner rant got cut off as I heard a tap near my feet. Having hopped off his branch, Borb now stood next to my calves. He stared, pointedly, at the cricket smushed against my breasts. I rose my eyebrows as a challenge.

"No. Go away, Borb. You already ate one."

He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing as if offended. The knowledge that I understood this gesture's meaning made goosebumps rise on my skin.

"I really wish you stopped doing that."

Another tap reached my ears, louder. This time, though, Borb hadn't moved.

Brow furrowed, my head snapped to follow the echo of a third and fourth tap. It came from somewhere deeper inside the forest.

My breathing stopped.

I remained still, listening. Whatever it was, it couldn't be too far away. It didn't sound to be, resembling more of a thumping rather than tapping now that I paid more attention to it. Like a heavy object hitting the ground.

"_Or someone slamming a blunt weapon against the forest floor." _

Well―

I stood up, rubbing my free hand against the skirt of my robe. My brain, ever so helpful, conjured several unsolicited images in succession: A masked man that dragged a bloodied mallet behind him, making his way to the next victim. A tall, skeletal, and pale humanoid figure that wandered the wilderness with heavy steps. A bear way too big to be just a bear; one that, perhaps, had never been a bear to begin with.

Pyramid Head, for some reason. I hadn't played Silent Hill in years.

'_Nope, nope, nope.' _My feet, God bless them, were already dragging me in the opposite direction before I could even realize it. It was the subsequent scream which made me first accelerate, before stopping on my tracks.

This, in any normal circumstance, would've been my clue to get the hell out. It wasn't. For one, I knew whom the voice belonged to.

I didn't know what to expect when I reached the source of the thumping. Nor did I know what to expect when I hid behind the trees as I watched. A short silhouette, one that belonged to a child, stood in the middle of the trees, unmoving. I considered walking up to them, unsettled by the stillness of his body. This didn't remain the case for long.

As if stimulated by a current, their arms jerked and rose. Several objects were thrown in succession. It took me a while to notice that these were stones.

Cutting through the wind with an audible swoosh, I saw them disappear between leaves and into the glaring sun. I squinted my eyes as I took in the scene in confusion.

Then, the kid was in the air, too.

Even after weeks of being caught in this dream, my heart never failed to beat out of my chest every time I became a witness of the monks' display of dexterity. Their arms were a blur as they moved with incredible speed, catching the stones as they fell. I looked at the show in awe. They looked to almost be floating, as if flying with wings that sprouted from their feet.

… sprouted from their arms?

The person was suddenly upside-down.

Closing my eyes did nothing to assuage the second-hand pain. The thwack of a body hitting the ground told me all I needed to know.

"_Well, that explains the thumping sound." _I mused, my face distorting in pity.

Head thrown back, the shadowed figure barked in frustration. The vague sense of familiarity became a certainty as I heard his voice yet again.

"_Lu"_. Bai's words earlier this day came back to me. 'One of my students is finding their training… hard. I can tell he's becoming demotivated.'

"_Ah." _

Everything clicked into place. I got the feeling to be witnessing something I shouldn't have. For a moment, I considered leaving, and I had begun just doing that. But, as I turned around, a gut feeling compelled me to look back. And so I did.

I wasn't sure if it was his posture, the memory of his frustrated scream, or the nostalgia that his wide, brown eyes provided. Nevertheless, I did not leave. The cricket still struggled in my grasp.

I looked at Borb from above my shoulder.

"You win this time, buddy" Happy at its newfound freedom, the cricket began making its way inside the greenery but didn't get very far. There was something absolutely unpleasant in watching the bird eat, like a snake unhinging its jaw; said snake being feathered, with an inclination to screech at passersby below.

(It was time to stop stalling.)

Inhaling deeply through my nose, I faced the teenager and left my cover.

"Hey, Lu." His head snapped to look at me. And although I couldn't see his features in detail, the way he stumbled on the next word made it obvious that he felt embarrassed.

"Liz!?" The boy sputtered. Offering him a reassuring smile, curbing any attempt of escaping, I told him:

"Is it alright if I sit next to you?"

* * *

"I don't think I was born to do this." Lu muttered under his breath. We both sat on a fallen tree, side by side. He, looking forwards, his back slouched in shame. I, digesting everything he had just told me.

The sky had begun to bleed, spilling magenta between the leaves as it made its way to the west. It occurred to me that they were probably waiting for us at the temple. Bai had to be pissed beyond belief. Maybe his vexation would lessen with some compliments thrown his way. Credit where credit was due; he had been right about Lu.

"Uh, no one's born being good at something." The glare that burnt at the side of my skull had my hands raising up in surrender. I clarified. "Sure, there are those who have an easier time getting the hang of things, but even they have to practice and keep practicing if they want to get good."

"But I'm not getting better, no matter how hard I work my butt off. Why even bother?"

I completely understood this feeling, and for a second, thought about agreeing to it. It was hard― growing up, learning. Change, in all of its varieties, had always been something I considered terrifying.

Maybe he had realized this himself. But that wasn't what he needed at the moment.

Then again, I wasn't the one he needed at the moment, too.

Gosh, did I suck at making people feel better.

But I'd still chosen to try. I had to. _"He looks a bit similar as__―__Nope, not touching that one.__" _Perhaps I was just more sympathetic to kids. I'd been at the beck and call of one during a significant chunk of my life. _"Stop that."_

"You wanna give up, then?" I muttered.

"I don't have any other options."

He hung his head. A tense silence permeated in the space between us. I watched the sun slide further into the horizon, rubbing my arms as a breeze slithered by. It was always colder inside the forest.

"If that's how you really feel, then give up."

My gaze remained glued to the sky. From the corner of my eye, I watched him jolt in surprise.

"Hey!" Lu's offended tone bordered on outrage. A vein had popped on the side of his head, which I regarded with amusement. "Shouldn't you be telling me not to give up!?"

"Why should I do that?"

"What kind of question is that!?"

Unable to help it, a chuckle escaped me without my permission, surprising the teen in the process. I propped up my chin on my open palm as I smiled at him.

"Have you ever heard of the sunk cost fallacy?" His deadpan expression caused me to roll my eyes. "You know what a fallacy is, right?"

He scrunched up his nose, and I found the gesture almost endearing. "Uh, an idea that's not quite right?"

"Hmm yesn't. It's a failure of reasoning, leading to an unsound argument."

Blinking at the new information, he opened his mouth but faltered. "Sink cost fallacy." He attempted. "Why are you bringing it up?"

"Sunk cost fallacy." I corrected, my voice gentle. "In short, it's when you keep investing in something, this being time and effort in your case, because you've already done so before. You do it because you want to get 'your money's worth', so to speak, even when you become sick of it. It's a normal thing that happens to everyone, you know. In different aspects of your life as well, be it finances, relationships―" I stared into the distance. "I think it's a way to keep yourself from regretting your decisions. But, on many occasions, it keeps us from moving on to better things, things we also want to do."

Lu looked on in disbelieve "Why are you telling me this?"

For a while, the answer lingered inside my throat. "I guess, I just want to let you know that it's okay to let things go."

As it pertained to this world's morals, I suspected that this was an incredibly selfish thing for me to suggest. 'Never give up, work hard, the power of friendship will solve everything'. Xiaolin Showdown had been one of those shows; one that insisted on how the actions of a few kids, on their own, were just enough to save the planet from its evils; a planet that didn't dwell on the specifics of power structures and human cruelty. No child needed that kind of burden. So, things were easier here. There was no excuse not to help. "_Just because it's easier, didn't mean it's right". _

It was most likely that I didn't have the authority to decide this. Seeing this world from a lense of my own reality was not only stupid but presumptuous; an exercise in futility. The reasons for me still doing so weren't ones I liked to dwell on.

Ever so slightly, the warmth of a hand enveloped my own. My eyes dropped to my lap. Lu had grabbed my clenching fist, which had turned into a worrying shade of white.

"Liz," He asked softly. "are you alright?"

That about did it.

Like a marionette with its strings cut off, my body lurched forward, eliciting a panicked yelp from my companion. Lu latched onto my forearm as he attempted to straighten me up, his other hand cradling my back. I rubbed my head with both hands. The sudden chuckle bubbling out of my chest was filled with mirth; its sound froze him in place.

I was such an edgy dumbass.

Braid now a mess, I peered at him through my hair, regarding his stunned expression with amusement. I shook my head at him.

"You're ridiculous, kid."

In our own way, we both were.

The teen recoiled, then blinked twice. His concern turned into irritation.

"You're ridiculous!" He stammered, and I felt a bit of fondness at the immaturity of this comeback. "And I'm not a kid!"

"You sure are. You're, what, thirteen?"

"Fifteen!"

"That's still awfully young, dude." I grinned, tongue sticking out from between my teeth. "Which is why I'm telling ya still have a whole life ahead of you to choose whatever you think is best for you."

At this, he sobered up once more. Lu twiddled his thumbs.

"Should this be the end, then?" He was no longer mad, but anxious. "Do I just give up?"

"I'm not really the person you should be asking this. I have a bit of a similar problem." My smile turned briefly into a grimace. "But if you care about what I've gotta say; it'd be kind of a shame to give up. I think you're a great warrior in the making."

Lu didn't look particularly impressed with this compliment.

"Uh, Liz." He narrowed his eyes, disbelieve coating his words. "How would you know? You can't even fight."

Scoffing, I leveled a glare at him. Jeez, how rude could this kid be?

"Yeah, maybe I can't. But I'm saying it because I genuinely believe it." A groan surged from the depths of my chest at his unimpressed face. Had I also been so difficult at that age? "Remember the tree, Lu? When I was in trouble, you were the first to react and save me. That's not something anyone can do. Right now, though, you've your heart set in the right place and you've acted on it. Your abilities can and will improve."

"That still doesn't make me a warrior in the making."

I shook my head.

"You're right. It makes you a hero in the making."

For a moment, only the chirping of cicadas could be heard. Lu's hand, suddenly stiff, began slipping off mine. I held tightly onto it.

"Listen, Lu. At the end of the day, this is a decision you have to make, regardless of what I or anyone else says. It's your life. And, if it makes you happy and opens doors for better opportunities, then giving up on something is alright. Maybe you just need a change of perspective. I'm not a trainer, but some people have different ways of understanding certain things. Talk with Bai or Master Monk Guan." Whenever the dick decided to show up. "This is the type of thing that needs to be discussed with your mentors. I'm sure that they'll know how to help you."

"A new perspective." He wondered out loud. His voice sounded unusually quiet. "Like... what?"

"Dunno. I can't say I'm an expert on stuff that is martial arts related." A bit embarrassed about my ignorance, I scratched the side of my nose. "Maybe you need to think about another training method. At your age, uh―" I coughed, catching myself just in the nick of time. "When I learn something new, I usually prefer to do practical examples with things that are as similar as it is possible to the real thing. Not saying that will be your case, but―" I shrugged.

"_Like when I practiced karate." _My mouth closed shut before I could run it. But this was the truth. While other students could get the gist of the movements by kicking training pillows and observing demonstrations, most of my understanding had come from direct hand to hand combat.

Enthusiastic hand to hand combat, to be specific.

I hadn't liked learning karate that much.

_"Maybe it's because he's lacking peers." _Training circuits could only do that much. And fighting superiors, although good on its own, had the downfall of becoming frustrating and demotivating if overdone. No one enjoyed having their ass handed to them all the time.

Beside me, Lu sat in contemplation, too. Staring at his face, I considered to ask him what he was thinking, but deciding against it. He would tell me if he wanted to. Minutes passed before he jolted his hand away from mine, only to wipe it on his robes. I was about to chide him on the rudeness of this gesture when he turned to me. A goofy grin, one that forced my own frown down, lightened up his face like the lamps in a festival.

"I think," He began. "I don't want to give up yet."

And for that, I could feel proud too.

* * *

Its feathers glowed like tar in the inky night. Emerging from clouds of ash and mist, the figure glided across the muggy, dread-filled air. More out of habit than necessity, the shadow followed the mountain's red glare as a beacon, and the sight of its home soon appeared before its button eyes.

_Perhaps home was the wrong term to use. But what this place really meant to him __―it― had become something the crow chose to stop thinking of a long time ago._

It landed on a platform, as silently as it arrived. Nevertheless, the crow didn't go unnoticed.

"You've been absent." A man spoke from the shadows, his voice calm, if not a bit disapproving. "It seems you have deviated from your original order. I expect there is a good reason for that."

Something slithered by in the periphery: Bright and orange, with a mocking grin. The crow shook its head in irritation.

"So," Its Lord prompted. His voice left no room for avoidance nor impertinence. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

The crow remained silent as it thought how to proceed, knowing the following moments would be unpleasant. A few beats later, it took one step forward―

―and began gagging.

Regarding the bird with puzzlement and some disgust, the Dragon Lord waited for his follower to finish whatever he'd decided to start. The crow spat a lump onto the ground. A second one followed soon; twitching and turning on a foul-smelling puddle.

The Dragon Lord stared, expectant, to which the crow nodded its head in a silent apology.

At this point, he was no longer a crow.

"I'll admit, this is unlike you, Ulf." His master commented as he watched him cleaning the mess at hand. He had enveloped them ―the crickets―, in a handkerchief, now devoid of any filth.

Another few pairs of eyes glimmered curiously in the dark behind the man, goading. The Berserker didn't betray his annoyance. There were more pressing matters to get over with.

"Talk" His master ordered.

And so, he did.

* * *

I didn't go to the forest the following days. Not that I had the motivation to do so in the first place. Being repeatedly beaten in a tile game by a kid and a part-time moron did leave some bruises on a person's sense of self-worth, as expected. Peeling potatoes in the kitchen, safe from judging eyes, was much safer in that regard.

A curse escaped me as one of the beforementioned potatoes slipped and rolled to the ground. I bent down to recover the insolent tuber, only to pause as another hand appeared in my field of vision, doing so before I could. Straightening up, I was surprised to find Lu, his robes messy with sweat. I figured he had just finished with his training for the day. He gifted the potato to me, along with a toothy grin.

"Do you need some help?"

It wasn't an offer I was about to reject.

Lu placed his chair next to mine, then looked for a knife of his own, before returning to my side. The two of us worked in silence. In the midst of the calmness, I mentally went over the tasks that still needed to be done for the day.

"Did you really mean it?" He suddenly asked. "Do you think I can be a hero?"

Blade stuck on a stubborn root, I didn't lift my face as I replied. "As far as I'm concerned, Lu, to me you already are."

* * *

**A/N: Ya know, I'm starting to see the appeal of having your OCs being badasses lone wolves with anti-social tendencies. Writing relationships is hard. It's funny; this chapter had like 4k words in its first draft, and I added almost two thousand more because of character interactions. I'll revise the chapter again, tho. Not to worry, the next chapter won't take a million years to release. It's done, just in need of another revision. It will be out in two days if not tomorrow. Shit will start to go down then, as Liz has obviously had way too much of a cozy time at the temple.**

**Btw, I don't think I've mentioned it, but English is not my first language. If there are grammar mistakes or typos of any kind, I'd appreciate it if you point them out. I'm just pumped you're all taking the time to read this, for real! **

**To my dear reviewers!**

**NOFACE: Eesh. I'll definitely take your words at face value. Some series are definitely better off without sequels. (The exception being Shrek 2 cough cough)**

**Ace: Hey, glad you like it! I'm pumped this fandom is still alive and to have all of you here!**

**Guest: Ayyye, I'll be real with you. I didn't know cherry-flavored apple was a real thing until reading your comment. Gotta love humanity and its passion to invent weird stuff for the world to wonder at.**

**GingkoDreams: Heyyyy, I'm so glad you noticed that. Writing Liz's inner voice is so much fun for me. It's good that none of her friends have the Mind Reader Conch to call her out on her bs, lmao. I'm glad you like her friends. Even if it's just two more OCs, I always worry it's too many. She will get to know the actual canon characters in a close future, tho, Chase included (as you may have concluded from one of the sections of this chapter). Boooy, is the future going to be wild for her. **

**Also: Poor crow. You didn't even give him the benefit of doubt ;(**

**(I mean, you were right. But still)**

**Have a great week, everyone! Stay safe!**


	5. Chapter 5

Butterfly Girl

Chapter 5: I, in trouble

If someone were to take apart an object, one piece at a time, how long would it take them before they weren't able to tell what it had been before being dismantled? Say, you draw a cat and show it to a person, who is immediately able to recognize your feline creation for what it is. You go to another room, erase the whiskers, and then show it to them again. Their opinion? Still a cat. You get rid of its tail, nose, eyes, and mouth, but their answer doesn't change. Just from their silhouette, they know it's a cat, which prompts you to erase the ears.

It's not a cat, they say when you come to them a final time. Not a cat, but a chunky, although somewhat malformed, four-legged lizard.

At this point, you may ask yourself how badly you'd fucked up the rest of the body for them to reach that conclusion. Most importantly, you've already decided on a verdict of your own:

A cat is defined by its ears. A cat, with no ears, isn't a cat at all.

"_And thus_, _I can almost hear Diogenes rolling in his fucking grave._"*

Exasperated, I shook my head along with the thoughts, focusing once more on the task at hand.

"_Alright, but this would be a problem only to the observer. As the creator, I'd still know it's a cat, even if it has no ears, right?"_

It should've been logical. Then again, it had become increasingly obvious that this world didn't operate by my peasant definition of logic.

And thus, I found myself glaring at the objects before me: Three white pinecones, two tennis balls, an assortment of different kinds of fruits, and shredded paper. Lots and lots of shredded paper. Perhaps, this is what I found to be the most infuriating part of the entire situation. Getting my dirty paws on actual drawing implements hadn't been easy. And now, it had all been all for nothing.

In a manner of speaking.

"_Pinecones without stems aren't pinecones. Tennis balls without their white, curved lines aren't tennis balls, apparently."_

I owed this disaster to my demotivated brain, which, in an absence of inspiration to make proper drawings, had suggested the following idea: How abstract could I go before the poofing magic stopped working?

The following hypothesis had developed as thus: If magic worked mostly through will, which I had somewhat confirmed, then creating an object with a very simplistic drawing could be achievable.

The results had then made apparent that I still didn't know shit about magic. After removing an infuriatingly inconsistent amount of elements, the objects simply didn't manifest anymore, which clearly meant that the number of parts omitted didn't matter and that sucked. It opened the doors to more obscure possibilities. Possibilities that I, in no way, was capable of deciphering on my own.

"_There has to be something else that I'm missing."_

I took a pinecone in my hand; one of the odder-looking ones. It had been the last functional model. The ones that came after were flops. This one, in particular, did have scales, although I hadn't bothered to draw them in detail. They looked chunky as a result ―Unorganized. And strangely enough, a bit blurry as well. Inspecting it once more, I couldn't help but think it was as if it'd been taken from a dream. The kind of dream in whereas one looked down at their hand to see only four fingers, figuring something was askew, but couldn't point out why exactly this was the case.

Maybe that's why it felt so wrong.

I didn't really know how to explain it to myself. In a way, even if I knew that many events in this world were impossible on my own, they still made sense in the context of his universe. Here they were feasible, fit in. This couldn't be said about the pinecone and the other objects that managed to manifest through the more simplified drawings. Almost like they were more intangible, ephemeral. When some of them started to disappear after the hour passed, I discovered that this was because they were.

And I still didn't understand it.

The rules, if there were any, seemed to be utter arbitrary nonsense.

"_Nah,"_ I scoffed, fiddling with my bracelet. _"even this place has to have some semblance of order. I'm definitely not taking something into account."_

Sighing, I massaged my head in irritation. Time was almost up, which meant I needed to return to the temple soon. Bai had mostly gotten off my case since my chat with Lu―as to why, I didn't know.

But it was convenient for sure, and I had no desire to give that extra freedom up. Especially because, as it turned out, the apple didn't fall far from the tree. My younger friend could be just as much of a nosy dumbass as his master. He, too, had begun asking questions about my newfound love of meditation; in that naïve but pointed way of his that made me wonder whether the kid did lack social awareness, or if he simply liked to give himself plausible deniability for future occasions.

I was beginning to think it was the latter. Perhaps it was time for me to lay low.

"_But if I stop going to the forest now, wouldn't it actually be more suspicious?" _I thought carefully about my next move as I made my way back to the temple. Classical villains had it hard. Credit where credit was due, insidious thinking required work.

An unpleasant, painful sensation at the sole of my left foot made me grimace. Stopping for a minute to shake off a pebble in my sandal, I caught an unfamiliar sight in the nick of time; just from the corner of my eye. My shoulders tensed, believing the elongated figure to be a snake at first glance. Upon further inspection, though, I recognized it to be a rope.

A rope that, that, for some reason, hung from one of the smaller trees as part of a bigger snare. I regarded the trap in confusion. Something prickled at the back of my mind.

That hadn't been there before.

"_Weird" _I thought. The monks didn't hunt, and most people who lived at the temple were vegetarian anyway. _"Maybe it was used from some sort of training thing?" _I considered the net on the floor again, just barely hidden beneath the dry leaves, then scoffed at the idea. Student or not, I couldn't really imagine a human that could be dumb enough to fall for such a visible trap, cartoon physics be dammed. Even these people should've known better than that.

"_No use to dwell on it._" I could ask once I returned just as well.

I had begun sliding my feet to the right, sidestepping the snare, when a masculine voice emerged from behind. Jumping at the suddenness of it, my body froze mid-movement.

"I should've known that my Dark Lady would never fall for the machinations of us mortals."

I turned around, staring at the intruder, stunned out of any words to say. Brain stuttering to keep up with what I was seeing, I didn't immediately place his face. "Still, this will make our situation quite difficult. I apologize in advance."

It had been a while, but I recognized him; pale, orange skin, small horns that barely protruded from his head, earthy yet bright, brown eyes. A series of names went through my head before the right one matched: Yurk.

He was dressed in a bird costume. With the acknowledgment of this fact, I came out of my bewilderment.

"What the hell." I breathed out. The goblin grimaced, his mouth forming a silent apology, and I saw his eyes darting somewhere behind me.

He screamed "Now!" Something rustled in the bushes. Before my brain could register what had happened, a small shape that darted from the foliage collided against my back, sending me to the floor.

I fell on the net.

The world turned and so did my stomach as I was hoisted into the air. Too stunned to do anything else, I gawked at the forest floor. Something popped somewhere in my back. God, I cursed, that would hurt like a bitch tomorrow.

Breath still knocked out of my lungs, my screams came out as wheezes. Somewhere behind the buzzing static in my mind, I wondered if it was even worth shouting for help. Afraid of running into someone again, I had wandered deeper inside the forest this time, enough to potentially not be heard. It occurred to me that this had to be no coincidence.

How had the goblins known where and when to find me? "_They must've been watching for some time_." If that was the case, the monks would've noticed, but they hadn't.

Just how―?

Yurk's face came into my field of vision, his expression as remorseful as it had been before. _"Not remorseful enough, for sure." _The green, long feathers of his dress brushed against the dirt.

Wait a minute. Green?

'_I thought I felt something looking at us. A green shadow. It was just a bird.'_

The words echoed through my mind. They did so thrice, before their implications sank in; I was going to murder Bai.

"OH, COME ON NOW!" My throat felt raw as I screamed. In the distance, a flock of birds took flight.

* * *

Green has calming effects on the mind, or so I heard once. I looked at the tree crowns from below, marveling at the strange lack of panic that, since my arrival in this world, had never once been truly absent. It was weird that this would be the case now, considering the circumstances. Maybe I was just tired. Maybe, it was just the absurdness of everything and all: A cat without its ears wasn't a cat. A goblin, dressed in feathers, could be a bird if so he wished.

Goblins. For people who claimed to be my followers, they sure showed a surprising amount of disrespect. This is what I thought as I was carried away by a group of three goblins. They heaved me in the air, hands on my back and legs, while they dutifully followed behind Yurk like aesthetically unappealing ducklings. My legs shifted inside their ropes, looking for a more agreeable position. I felt like a human burrito. It was uncomfortable as hell, too.

"Watch your hands!" I bit out; protest deadened by the duct tape on my mouth. Although probably not on purpose, some fingers were beginning to wander. One of the goblins flinched and retreated his slipping limb back to its original place.

"I apologize, your Darkness!" The creature squeaked. "My, um, hands. They're sweating."

I counted to three before releasing my breath. "_Sure, why not?_" That'd been exactly what I wanted to know.

"Mind your actions, vermin!" Yurk shouted, his eyes in literal flames. "Disrespect towards our goddess will not be tolerated." The priest added, yet his serious countenance wavered at the weight of my glare.

I hoped that my face looked as murderous as I felt. Judging by the dropping of his pointy ears, it probably did.

Raising his hand in a placating gesture, the goblin explained. "You must understand, Dark Lady." The smile he offered me wobbled a bit. "While we know that capriciousness is a fundamental part of the nature of higher beings such as yourself, we, the Goblin Folk, are in dire need of your assistance."

"_Fuck is he talking about? Capriciousness?" _Even if it served as a coping mechanism, such an assumption still felt a bit insulting to me. _"Is this why they think I didn't help them that time at the meadow?" _The rest of his sentence finished processing, and I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. This sounded like the beginning of another monologue.

"You see, My Liege, it has been 1510 years since tragedy struck our mighty kingdom―" Feeling my body deflate, I let out a deep, raspy sigh. One of the goblins yelped, struggling to keep my neck straight as I threw back my head. "―We, the Goblin Folk, had it all: Riches, magic… power!"

A hum, one that consisted more of derision than air, escaped through my nose. "And then what? The Fire Nation attacked?"

"I don't know of this 'Fire Nation' that you speak of, my lady." He explained in an apologetic tone. I, personally, was more impressed by the fact that he'd been able to understand that muffled nonsense at all. "The person who attacked us back then was no other than Monk Dashi."

What?

I blinked owlishly at him. That. I sure as hell hadn't expected that.

Seeing my confusion for what it was, the goblin priest continued, "We believe you were still dormant at that time, so it's no wonder you wouldn't know. But the events were as such―"

"_Yeah, it is a monologue, alright." _

Internally, I wished for Bai to hurry up. He probably soon would. Too much time had already passed for no one to not figure out that I wasn't coming back. The previous scuffle hadn't left the scene intact, either. A seasoned monk would take one look at it and understand that something violent had taken place there. A damsel in distress, in any children's story, could only always be rescued.

Unless my author-god felt like subverting expectations.

I narrowed my eyes at the sky, challenging. _"Listen here, deific prick. You better not think of it!"_

Yurk was still talking. He had also become aware of the fact that I was very much not listening.

"My lady…" He whined, and admittedly, it did thug at my heartstrings a bit.

I took notice that the group had stopped, halting the same way Yurk just had. Observing what currently took place before me, my cheek spasmed.

The goblin priest, in the middle of his narration, had forgotten about the fact that we ―they― were still escaping in the first place. It took me a significant amount of self-control not to point this out.

Don't, I told myself. Don't make your kidnapping easier for them. Even if they were so fucking incompetent it hurt. _"They are just doing their best, okay?". _Their best sucked. That suited me just fine.

An idea then took root in my brain, shoving the previously somewhat empathetic thought in a mental broom closet, padlocking the door.

"Could you start from the beginning, then?" I asked. The priest, although with a resentful expression, obliged.

It's not like he had another choice.

* * *

The Goblin Folk used to be mighty, he repeated. It had not always been that way. Around three thousand years ago, on the brink of their eradication, a goddess clawed her way out of the soil. She had heard their prayers from the depths of a much darker place, what remained of her heart moved with compassion. She'd seen the potential of the goblin people, whose true strength laid in their spirit, and whose passion burned like a thousand suns―

I told Yurk to please get to the point.

The goddess― That was me, I supposed ― guided the creatures to an era of prosperity, teaching them science, letters, and magic that would lead them to various victories. A staff, designed to store all the knowledge they'd been imparted with, was created and passed onto the priests for generations to follow.

I pointed out how this was an incredibly stupid idea.

"We did have other references; books, scrolls." Yurk squeaked in defense. "Dashi destroyed them all! Only the staff remained without harm, but he hid it, and we don't know where it is."

"Why did he do it?"

"We were a menace to the world, my lady! A menace I tell you!" He hit his chest with a fist in a sign of misplaced pride. "Your teachings were never in vain! But now that you're back, you'll lead us back to glory."

Briefly, I wondered if he could read by my expression how absolutely done with this shit I was. The duct tape, which by this point had already been ruined by good old condensation, fell to the ground in a glob of saliva. I rolled my eyes at their horrified expressions.

Sodding amateurs should've used a gag.

"And how do you propose I do that, Yurk?"

His grin faltered.

He waved his arms like an inflatable tube man, and I briefly wondered if he was full of air, too. "Details, details. All of those can be discussed later! Your Darkness, with her infinite wisdom, should help us in that regard, right?" I pretended not to notice how he'd slipped in that last part. This whole situation resembled too much a high school group project to my liking.

"Yurk―" I interrupted myself, my brow furrowing as I realized something. "Hold on. If that staff held all your magical knowledge, how did you know the way to bring me here?"

"Some spells were passed down orally, including our prayer to you, but parts of them were lost to time. We had to make a few tweaks until it worked properly, but at last, you're here!"

The world paused around me, almost dragging the surroundings along, the way an old VHS tape did. I asked him to repeat that part again and paraphrased it myself ―just to be sure― after he did. Hearing it multiple times didn't make me feel better. Mouth snapping shut, I cradled my face in my bound arms.

I'd been transported here not only by pure accident― but via shitty reverse engineering.

"Uh. Your Darkness?" One of my carriers chimed in, sounding distinctively close to pissing themselves. "Are you― are you all right? You look very purple."

Ignoring the comment in favor of breathing, I looked at Yurk pointedly in the eye.

"Hypothetically speaking, would you be able to send me back?"

His worried face morphed into one of panic.

"I understand this may have been sudden, but we the Gobl―"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." I growled, my patience wearing thin. "Goblin Folk needs help. That's fine. I'm talking hypotheticals. Could I count on you to send me back once your… problem was to be solved, yes?"

"With the staff in my hands, your Darkness, of course―!"

I couldn't help it. For the first time in weeks, my heart throbbed almost painfully at the distinctive feeling of hope this confirmation provided. I paused, blinking back tears, only to shake my head when I further thought about what he proposed.

"_No". _That was a bad idea. If the equivalent of a Kung Fu god had deigned it necessary to take the staff off of their hands, then it was probably for the better to keep it that way. There had to be alternatives.

"―_But what if there's not?"_

I found myself startled at this line of thought. I couldn't be considering this, yet―

Would it really be that bad? A kid's cartoon world, wherein the good guys were written to win no matter in which situation they found themselves in, was sure to be ultimately safe from the forces of evil regardless of how powerful these became. The goblins weren't the brightest bulbs in the box, either.

So what if I made things a bit harder for them?

"'_Cuz the ones who will be cleaning after my mess are kids. Kids like Lu. Like Samuel." _Another voice joined the first. "_None of them are like Samuel, for fuck's sakes."_

Suddenly startled, a shiver ran down my spine. It'd been very long since the last time I'd felt this much disgust towards myself.

"My lady?" Yurk began, the words filled with what sounded like worry. Maybe I'd taken too long to answer. Maybe he'd seen the shift on my face, changing from contemplative to distressed. "What do you say?"

I opened my mouth with hesitation, not quite sure what to say. Either way, I didn't get to make a choice.

He came out of nowhere. It became obvious from my captors' surprise, that they hadn't expected him either. The man fell off the trees, creating a small crater upon impact that launched chunks of soil and leaves in all directions, forcing me to close my eyes. Yurk screamed. "Don't let him have her, fools!" But the hands under me had already disappeared. I yelped as I hit the ground. Several exclamations followed mine "Look what you made them do, monk!". I didn't pay mind to any of them.

Monk.

The uncertainty of the last hour, the headache, my back pain; none of those things mattered as relief flooded my system. I'd put my trust in them and been rewarded for it. They'd come for me in the end.

The mayhem didn't last for long. It was pretty, funny in a pathetic sort of way: Days of planning, stalking, and cheating had all gone to waste in the course of one monologue. My head remained tucked inside my arms, knees close to my chest. I only dared to peek over my shoulder once the sound of combat died out. His familiar, yet unfamiliar dark eyes met mine, and only after seconds of staring did I finally realize that I'd been looking at Guan.

The harshness of his haze looked wrong on him. My heart stuttered inside my chest. It was then I realized I didn't know how long he'd been following us. How much he'd listened to. How much of what he'd listened to he truly understood.

I called out to him. Softly, insecure, like a kid whispering in the darkness for her parents. His name broke and fell off my tongue.

His expression softened at the helpless whimper, yet the growing feeling of trepidation didn't leave me. The monk dropped his head with a sigh.

"Let us go back, Eliza." He said, extending a hand. "I believe there is something we need to talk about this evening." My bound hands froze in his, still waiting to be grasped.

Faced with the audacity of that statement, I couldn't help it. I snorted.

The sheer fucking insolence of what he'd said. Of leaving someone to the wolves, to fester in their own uncertainty, only to then demand information in the most passive-aggressive of ways―

Some air made its way down the wrong pipe, making me cough out of sudden. It was here when I realized that there wasn't anything funny to be found in this particular situation.

"_There kind of is, though." _But I shook that stray thought away. Guan's fingers felt like the wind's caress on the back of my head.

"Yeah." I whispered. It was just loud enough for him to hear. "Yes, there is."

* * *

**A/N: Divided the chapter. It was a lot less to edit, so voila!**

**Oop. Also, Liz needs glasses ASAP. I know this has been a slowish start, but things should start picking up from here.**

***Uh, this is a reference to the philosopher Diogenes of Sinope. The story goes that Plato was once tasked to define what a human was in the simplest terms possible. His answer was that a human is a featherless biped. So Diogenes plucked the feathers from a chicken, went to Plato's school, and showed it to the public as he said: "Behold Plato's man!"**

**He was kind of a jerk to everyone and lived inside of a barrel on the streets. Very interesting fellow.**

**Thanks to DragonxGalX56 and Fantasia-Mania31 for reviewing the last chapter! Glad ya liked it.**


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